Deicide
by Sir Lucifer Morningstar
Summary: Deicide. n. Deicide is the killing (or the killer) of a god. The concept may be used for any act of killing a god, including a life-death-rebirth deity who is killed and then resurrected. A man from earth makes a deal with a god in exchange for a second life. It does not go as expected. SI. Dark Fic. No, really. Probably the darkest thing I've written - and that's saying something.
1. Prologue

**So... the concept for this story has just been at the back of my mind for so long and so hard that I was not getting any work done until I wrote it out. A Fairy Tail SI. Strange how so few of these exist.**

 **Is this a Gamer Story? No. A Gamer in the Fairy Tail Universe would break it in half, at least, in the early parts of the story anyway. Gamer Mechanics don't quite mesh well with Fairy Tail for some reason, and though I was _so_ tempted to make it one, I decided against it. **

**For now. Though, with magic, anything is possible.**

 **Anyway - this is objectively the darkest thing I think I've written so far. In case that isn't clear - this is a dark fic. What were you expecting? It's me.**

 **The Fairy Tail world is rich in lore that was never fully explored, and I'm gonna enjoy expanding on some of this here and there. So, without further ado... let the warning tags come in.**

 **WARNINGS: Mentions of assault, gore, slavery, profanity, rape, sexual abuse, underaged sex, drug and/or alcohol use, mind manipulation, etcetera. You've been warned, and don't message me about this stuff. Seriously, ignoring your complaints wastes both my time and yours.**

* * *

 **Prologue**

* * *

To suffer. To be thrown into chaos – into anarchy. To burn and to be burnt. What was it all for? What was its purpose? What did it all mean? To become stronger? To attain a value for greatness? Without evil, we would not understand good – but of what purpose was senseless evil which overwhelmed you – consumed you in a manner that prevented you from ever appreciating the good?

These were the thoughts that would have plagued my mind, had I been more focused. Instead, my focus was centered on the bloody blade in my hand, and the strangling, gurgling man beneath my feet. The weapon descended, the full might of my strength behind the blow, the knife sinking into skin with a strange echo of a dull thump. There was a noise in the background – screeching, I assumed. I didn't care, I focused on dragging the blade out of the skin, shivering at the feeling of the weapon sinking lazily out of the flesh, dripping with bright red blood. The scent of copper overwhelmed me, and I drove the blade down again – this time, to the forehead. It took more effort, slightly more than I thought, but it happened eventually, the blade sinking in between bone with a strange scraping sound. It went further, the long end burying itself deeper and deeper, until just the hilt was left visible. Idly, I wondered if I'd cut straight through his right and left hemispheres.

Just to be certain, I twisted the knife in the skull, rotating it like I was whisking cake batter, dragging the blade down to the side like I had pulled a lever – blood spurting out along with flecks and other parts of flesh.

I felt vindicated. Perfectly, absolutely thrilled. The adrenaline rushing through me might have had something to do with it, and the fact that the man underneath me was well and truly dead was another part of it. Still, it did not matter. I looked down, fully aware of the six bullet wounds buried in my chest. Medical services would not get here in time. There was no miracle that could make me survive bleeding out before that.

I stared at my body – so skinny. So strange. I would not have believed that less than three months ago, I'd been complaining about being chubby. I supposed being kidnapped, starved and tortured at the whim of a family of homicidal sociopaths would do that to you. Part of me wished I'd at least fucked the daughter before stabbing the kitchen knife up her jaw and dragging it across her throat. Of course, that was a pipe dream. With how weak I was, I would have never been able to pin her down and do to her what her father and brother had done to the three women they'd captured.

My knees gave up, and I almost cursed. The adrenaline was wearing off. I'd been fed nothing but dried bread and water for so long, it was a miracle I was even able to do this much. I almost snorted at the thought. It wasn't a miracle that I'd escaped and killed them, it would have been a miracle if I'd done so without getting shot six times in the chest. Or was it a miracle that I was still conscious?

I dropped to my face a small pool of blood gathering around me. Well, this was unfortunate. I'm sure when the cops eventually came, they'd lose their lunches after examining all the bodies. I wondered if I'd be cremated or buried. I wish I could get one of those Asian styled funerals – candles placed on a small paper boat – drifting into the ocean. Did that even matter though? I guess not. I was going back to where I came – to where I was during World War I and the siege of Troy, and to where I'll be when the last star in the universe collapses.

Living had been fun. I was lucky to have been born in the information age. So much I enjoyed – so much I loved. Ah… I would miss my waifus. My tentacle hentai collection. My PS4. But… I guess in the end… this… is… it…

* * *

 **XXXX**

* * *

Pitch black darkness. I could not claim to be fond of it. Particularly this variety – all-consuming. This was unfortunate – I had assumed my consciousness would cease after death. If this was what I had to look forward to for all of eternity – I would need to come up with a means to kill my consciousness. Existence would be a chore.

" **Hello**."

A voice. Ominous. It wasn't mine. It did not belong to any one I knew, or anyone I had ever heard before. I couldn't place it. Strange.

" **I'm sure you're wondering what's going on.** "

The voice became clearer. It was female. Feminine, soft, comforting – somewhat. It was disconcerting. I remembered dying, hence, this voice – it could not be a conjuration of my imagination. No – instead, it had to belong to something else.

"I assume you are the being whose purpose is to take me to the afterlife?" I asked to the empty darkness, and there was silence.

" **Your world's afterlife is uncertain. There is a fifty-percent chance that it exists, and a fifty percent chance that it does not**."

Fascinating. Two words drew my attention. "My world?"

" **Ah, yes. You see… numerous worlds exist –** "

"So the multiverse theory is true." I interrupted.

There was a huff of what sounded like annoyance. " **Yes.** "

I nodded. I let out a small hum. I closed my eyes. "I see." I opened them. "I assume you are here to take me to your world, or offer me a second chance at life, in exchange for some sort of servitude to you."

"… **And how did you come to that conclusion?** "

"For what reason would a being beyond my comprehension, invade into my world and speak with a recently deceased man?" I said promptly "You cannot possibly do this for every soul that dies. Hence, you picked mine, for whatever reason, because you are in need of me. Otherwise, I assume we would not even be having this conversation."

The voice sounded amused. " **You're rather sharp**."

"I suppose." I said curtly, "Although, it is mere common sense. I am a nobody in the grand scheme of the universe, I see no reason for a being beyond my comprehension from another world to take interest in me unless they possess a specific reason."

" **So then… do you accept my offer?** "

"You phrase that question as if my response has any merit on your decision," I said, "You are a god – or a primal force – or something else. Of what relevance are my opinions and desires to a being of your capacity? Why would my opinion play any role in the grand scheme of your plans?" I shook my head "That is like a man asking a cow if it wants to be reared for milk or slaughtered for meat. Of what relevance is the cow's answer to the man's decision?"

There was a slight stretch of silence.

"… **so you believe, that I will do whatever I want, regardless of what you want?** "

"Am I wrong in this assumption?"

" **Oh, no. You're right. I'm just surprised – you're the first mortal I've met who actually realized that what they want or don't want is insignificant to me.** "

Mortal? Interesting. I filed away that information for later. "Most humans are too arrogant, or perhaps, to engrossed in their sense of self to realize their insignificance."

" **And you – you're not?** "

I hummed. "I used to be. But I suppose being drugged, raped, beaten, starved and urinated on has eroded most of that sense of self." I stared at my fist. "I suppose I only have enough left to prevent myself from being a pitiful shell, enough defiance left to _refuse_ to be broken – just to spite my captors."

The stretch of silence returned, slightly longer than I expected.

" **I have decided – you will be my champion**."

"Very well," I said, "May I know what exactly it is that I am championing?"

The darkness twisted. It appeared as though one had turned a piece of cloth in space, curving and morphing it. The entrance slightly startled me, but perhaps, not so much as the appearance. Slightly pale skin. Long dark hair. White robes. Barefoot.

"My name is Eris – and I am the Goddess of Chaos and Misery."

The name was of Greek origin. The aspects she mentioned? Greek origin. I said nothing, instead merely pursing my lips.

"I see." I stated. "Am I to spread chaos, strife and misery in your name?"

She smiled. "Very quick. I think I like you."

I nodded, slowly. "Does that mean you picked me as your champion, because of the circumstances surrounding my death?"

"Yes." She said without missing a beat. "I will admit – I was impressed. I do not see such strength of will often. A captured man escaping captivity – and slaughtering all his captors in a cold, detached rage. You would have defiled the women and the corpses if you had the strength to, would you not?"

"Yes." I responded in turn, without missing a beat.

She smiled, her smile growing wilder. "Perfect! I feel Earthland will be far more interesting with you in it."

I did my best not to react. _Earthland_. Fictional continent? No – fictional world. Reference – Fairy Tail.

Fairy Tail. Magical world centering on a guild and its adventures. Shonen class – heavy on the battles and fights, low on the character development. Copious amounts of ecchi to which it gained significant criticism. Also gained criticism for the propensity of the characters to overcome any and all obstacles, regardless of difficulty or plausibility, using the power of friendship.

This immediately changed the stakes. This was not an omnipotent being beyond my comprehension. This was a being possessing powers prescribed to her and operating under the laws and rules established by a man, in this case, Hiro Mashima. A being most likely unaware of the fact that in my world, she would be considered an aspect of fiction.

This was not an omniscient being to whom I could not deceive. This was merely a god of Earthland. A being, to which I can recall, can be slayed. A being which possessed significant powers, but nonetheless, also possessed significant limitations.

There was no need to act as though I knew where I would be going. No reason to jeopardize my one and possibly only chance at a second life. No reason to give her doubts and make her begin to suspect my plans to eventually kill her and be free of her influence. Or perhaps I would enslave her instead? Having a god as a sex slave would be a welcome irony.

There was one thing I noticed, once my attention focused on her form. The skin, it was pale, pasty pale. The white robe, it seemed worn, frayed even.

She was weak.

Or, more accurately, doing this – summoning a being from another world – it was incredibly taxing, and weakening her.

Interesting. I'd need to do my best to slay her early.

"You've been staring at me intently Champion. Do I take it you like what you see?"

"Yes," I stated bluntly. "If I could, I would very much like a session of passionate sex with you. However, I am certain making that request would be a very unwise thing to do."

She blushed. A goddess… _blushed_ , at me – a mere human, stating the obvious?

I would have scoffed, but I knew better than to do so. I was a fool for even once mistaking this being as being something beyond my comprehension.

"So brazen!" she said, before shaking her head, "But, you are of course right. No mere mortal can handle me I'm afraid."

"Once I become your champion, I will be no mere mortal."

She gave me a look I translated to one of contemplation. "Perhaps." She shook her head "Regardless – I think I've spent enough time here. I will now send you to the world, my Champion. Your goal is to spread as much of my name as you can – to spread as much chaos and inflict as much misery as possible."

Weak. Pathetic. Juvenile.

Chaos for chaos sake? Misery in the name of misery? A waste. A pointless waste.

"Of course, my lady Eris."

It mattered not. In time – I would ensure that this 'god' learned her place. Understood the art form of disaster, and recognized the beauty of what true misery was.

"My powers have certain… limitations… hence, you will find yourself waking at a much younger age and rejuvenated – but it will be in a place with a thick concentration of either misery, conflict, or chaos."

I rose an eyebrow. She wasn't even going to bother telling me the history of the world I would find myself in? Telling me about the existence of magic? The workings of Eternano? The political system? Government? Rules and Laws? Language and customs?

She expected me to learn it all by myself?

I never thought a day would come where I could claim to have more foresight than a god, and be factually accurate. This was more or less a glorified child than it was any form of extraordinary being.

No matter, it would make my goals all the more easier.

"Now! Go forth my champion! Go! Go and spread the name – Eris!"

I would need to kill her… _really_ soon.

* * *

 **XXXX**

* * *

"We got another one!"

"The hell? Where'd this brat come from?"

"Does it matter? Just put him with the others and set him to work."

Voices. I noted them. Gruff, adult males. More than likely voices that belonged to the less than reputable sort. I opened my eyes. My surroundings came to me all at once. Dark, humid, and rocky. Dusty and uninhabitable. I was being carried. I turned my gaze to those who were lifting me.

A sharp breath escaped my lips. I recognized the masks. I recognized the robes. I recognized the demeanors and the staffs. How could I not? This was the moment – the scene that had written it in my memory that Fairy Tail was not happiness and sunshine. It was the moment that had made me shudder with the realization that fanatical fools would do anything in the name of whatever deity they desired. The moment it became common knowledge, that the Titania had been a slave.

This was –

The Tower of Heaven.

"No."

"Hmm? Did you say something brat?"

No. No. No.

I'd worked hard. I'd fought. I'd clawed and scraped. It took everything I had, everything I could give, just to escape my previous enslavement. Regardless of that – in the end – I still died. My efforts, accomplishment – meaningless in the ultimate fate of death.

"No."

No. I was _not_ going to be enslaved again. I was not. I was not.

I. WOULD. NOT. BE. A. SLAVE. AGAIN.

"FUCK YOU!"

"What the – gurk!"

I lunged at the slaver to the left. The human body was all I needed as a weapon. I forced my teeth into his neck, clenching with all the force I could, ignoring the bitter taste of flesh. I ripped lose, taking as much flesh as I could with the initial bite, red liquid splashing across my face and dribbling down my chin. I lunged in for a second bite without hesitating, my teeth sinking into what was either the larynx or the pharynx. I cared very little for anatomical accuracy as I forced my teeth to tear into the hard, rubbery flesh, as more and more blood splattered all over my face and into my eyes.

A slip in concentration. That slight moment of being blinded; abused. The slaver pushed me off him, sending me careening harshly to the rocky ground. His hands shot up to his throat, futilely attempting to stop the bleeding as he gurgled incoherently.

"W-w-w-what the fucking hell!" My attention was immediately spun on the second slaver. I needed to attack him before he regained his wits –

Slow. I was too slow.

The magical rod came crashing down on me. My body went numb, my muscles refused to listen; a legion of needles violated my flesh in the form of the electric currents that was sent rushing through my body.

"You fucking freak! Fucking demon brat!"

Again, and again, the electrocuting weapon came down. I wanted to scream. I wanted to scream at it – at him – at the sheer, utter insanity of this situation. My mouth was filled with the tangy taste of coppery blood. I had lost a few of my teeth in my attack. I was being punished with severe shocks of electricity. Despite it, I gazed up at the slaver with as much defiance as I could.

"F-fuck you." I spat. "F-f-fuck you to hell. Fuc – AAARRRRGH!"

Pain. It was strange. Experiencing it. I knew that I was in pain. I was aware of it – but at the same time, I had grown too accustomed to it. All my time in captivity had made it less of a horrific burden and more of an unwelcome visitor. I would be distinctly aware of the fact that I was in pain, yet, it would feel as though I was not the one present. As though I was not the one suffering. Often, it would feel like I was not in my own body.

Instead, I was in my room, sitting in front of my gaming PC. Skyrim was on the screen. A box of pizza was on the left, pepperoni, with the crusts cut off. A can of orange soda was beside it. The chair was soft – very soft, worth all the money I paid on it. On the screen, the Dragonborn was slashing away maniacally at a dragon. A few spells, and then a massive shout – FUS ROH DAH. I'd chant it along with my Nord character, laughing at the fun of it, and grabbing another slice of pizza to put in my mouth. It was fun. I was good. I was safe.

It never lasted long. The walls would peel back. The grounds would melt. The screen would flicker – and I would be back to reality. A needle injected into my skin. A woman with a pasty white smile standing over me, relieving herself on my face. What were the words she would say? I couldn't remember. They were always self-righteous in one way or another, at times, they would be condescending, overarched with a motherly or teacher-like tone. I think she had actually believed she was 'reforming' me for 'the good of society.' I never understood much of it.

I would go back to 'my room' instead. A different game: Far Cry 3. A different pizza – vegetable. A different drink – lime soda. It would last for a while. A brief while. But it would last.

"…"

"How could they… monsters…"

"… half to death…"

"…won't make it…"

Would this be a record? I wondered with amusement. To die the very day you are reincarnated into a new world. Such a feat would be notable – if not slightly pathetic.

 _Eris…_ the foolish goddess. _Is this part of your plan?_

This was assuming she even possessed the foresight to have a plan. The goddess of Chaos… it was more likely that she left everything up to chance, without any greater plan in mind. It would be the _Chaotic_ thing to do. Hence, a goddess whose main domain was Chaos would have no need for order, no need for a plan. Strange though – Chaos and Misery. It was odd, as I believed that gods in this world could only have one domain? Ankhersam was Death. Chronos was time. There was also most likely a God of Fire, a God of Lightning, and a God of the Sky, hence the Godslayers.

Would I, then, become the Godslayer of Chaos, or the Godslayer of Misery?

I snorted. Both sounded so edgy.

"Rob-jiji! He's breathing!"

Of course I was. I just snorted – did I not?

"Ah! He's waking up!"

The sensations of tiredness and pain were gone. Mostly, gone. I felt weak. I felt hungry. I felt… irritated.

I snapped my eyes open and became distinctly aware of the children who were watching me. Red hair – blue hair – brown hair – girl, boy. Of course – the children of the Tower of Heaven. People who thought they understood suffering.

I laughed. Vocally.

It was all that was needed for them to scatter like deer.

* * *

 **XXXX**

* * *

Rob was old.

He'd seen a lot in his long life. He'd experienced a lot of things, fought a lot of monsters, saved a lot of people, and he'd done a lot of good. Inversely, to do so much good, he saw and combated so much evil. Yet, in all his years, he would easily say that he had never quite seen a person like the young boy before him.

He looked to be about thirteen years old, with pitch black hair, pale skin, and haunting red eyes. The eyes were a bright scarlet red, almost the same color as the hair of the girl that Rob could call his granddaughter, and merely gazing into the boy's eyes sent shivers running up and down his skin. It wasn't just the nature of the eyes themselves which caused him to be uncomfortable, but rather, it was the absolutely expressionless face of the boy which, when coupled with those eyes – made him an immediately intimidating figure.

The children were wary of him – which was to be expected. In all honesty, Rob had expected the poor boy to die under his grievous wounds. He looked malnourished, skinnier than even the worst slave they'd encountered. He'd been covered in blood when he'd been found by Erza and Jellal, and it was only after Rob had begun treating him that he realized most of the blood had not been the boy's own. His injuries, as they were, were mostly external, severe bruises, cuts and scrapes. The internal injuries seemed to constitute of a few broken ribs and sprained ankles. Most of the damage though, had come from being hit repeatedly with a blunt object – one which electrified him on impact.

Despite this, Rob had done his best to heal his wounds and bandage him. He however, was not expecting the boy to wake up less than three hours later, and _laugh_.

The old man had visibly _shuddered_ as he heard the laugh. The mocking – satirical laugh. There was so much emotion behind that laugh, so much that it was terrifying. The children had all immediately rushed away from him at the laugh, and the boy didn't seem to mind. If anything, he had been _expecting_ the reaction.

This was when he sat up, and stared around the room, his blank, expressionless face, coupled with his haunting red eyes made the simple action of staring one that appeared far more intimidating than it should.

"Ah –" Rob began, not sure how to start.

The boy turned his gaze down to his body, immediately noticing the makeshift bandages. They were made with the few cloth and rags that were available to them.

"Rob-jiji – he's scary." Millianna whispered behind him.

"Are you alright?" The voice had come from Jellal, who, it seemed, had gotten over his original fright. "You were really beat up. Old Man Rob healed you up."

The boy said nothing, instead, he merely turned his gaze to Jellal. He locked his gaze unto the boy's form with such intensity that Jellal was starting to look uncomfortable under it.

"You shouldn't stare at people like that. It's rude." He flicked his eyes over to the left, turning his gaze from Jellal to Erza. Rob could have sworn that the boy's eyes narrowed slightly, just ever-slightly, in recognition. His gaze locked on Erza, in the same unflinching manner, but the red-head wasn't having any of it.

"You should –" she moved towards him, stretching out her hand –

It was like some sort of switch was flipped. Rob would have called it pure instinct, pure instinct which made the boy grab Erza's arm, and then grab the girl herself, pinning her to the floor and twisting the arm.

Consciously, Rob had seen it. He saw the boy's expression and realized that the boy wasn't all there. He saw the way the boy's eyes only seemed to focus after the deed was done. How he immediately seemed to regain a sense of where he was and what he'd done.

Erza screamed.

"Erza!"

Unconsciously, Rob did not care about any of that. He saw a potential threat nearly about to break the hand of a girl who he grew to care about like his own grandchild. Hence, he reacted in turn, rushing forward in a manner that no one his age had any right to. He grabbed the offending hand of the boy, and roughly pushed him off Erza before he broke the girl's arm.

"You bastard!"

"Jellal – no – stop!"

The blue-haired boy was already moving – rushing forward to attack. Rob felt a sickening sensation in his stomach, one which only grew as Jellal tackled the older boy to the ground.

"Don't." the boy's voice was surprisingly soft, and the word which came out brought everyone to a cold stop "Don't. Fucking. Touch me."

"You just attacked Erza!"

"She wanted to touch me. I dislike being touched." The voice continued coolly. "Now, get off me."

"You –"

"Jellal, it's alright." Erza's voice came, she stood, slightly rubbing her arm. "I'm – I'm fine."

Rob could only rub his head and sigh at the situation. Jellal slowly disentangled himself from the strange boy, who then stood, dusting himself. He promptly turned to Erza, giving a small bow.

"I apologize. It has become second nature for me to attack when I feel someone is about to touch me. I did not mean you any harm."

Everyone turned to stare at the boy, and Rob himself was finding himself torn between being wary, or questioning the circumstances that would lead to such disproportionate reactions from simply being _touched_.

"It's fine." She said, rubbing her arm. "I'm sorry – I-I didn't know."

"No, you had no way of knowing. You should not apologize..."

Rob could feel himself sweatdrop, particularly in reaction to the boy's speech mannerisms. It was… almost as though a robot was talking. When taken in consideration with his expressionless face, he supposed that it was to be expected.

"I'm Erza." The girl said, "This is Jellal," she added, pointing to the boy who was still scowling, "Old Man Rob," to him, "And then there's Sho, Simon, Wally and Millianna." The four children were now exposed, seeing as how they were no longer hiding behind his back.

The red-eyed boy looked at all of them, his face still blank.

"…Jason." He said simply.

Rob would come to remember this meeting, or more accurately, he would come to remember Jason. The strange, emotionless boy who had joined them in the cells, another child slave to be used. Had he known, of course, the true nature of the boy, had he known –

Things would have been much differently.

* * *

 **XXXX**

* * *

I did not sleep that evening.

I doubted that I could. In such a place, to sleep was to die. Slaves were everywhere, slavers, even more so. Mashima was a fool not to realize the implications of slavery. He portrayed only the end – the revolt and Erza's escape, and swept everything else under the dust. The reality was far worse.

The simplest of questions espoused the dark actuality of slavery.

For instance, where did the slaves shit?

Excretion was a biological process which all living beings possessed. Here, in the Tower of Heaven, where did the slaves do their business? Answering this question would further reveal the nature of the reality. The slavers had no interest in maintaining restrooms or toilets, nor could they be bothered to create such a facility. Hence, the people shat _everywhere_ and _anywhere_. Those who possessed some decency, would at least attempt to bury the evidence of their defecation where it could not be seen. However, they were many who cared little for that, and many who did not possess the will to do so.

This meant, most of the slave cages were disgusting, smelly places. The smell of defecation or urine would permeate thickly in certain areas, and this brought along with it, a plethora of more problems.

Where did the slaves bathe?

The answer: they didn't. Clean water was given in extreme rarities. You could not afford to waste extremely large amounts of the liquid on a full bath. That aside, there were no soaps provided. Similarly, there was no tissue paper for people to clean themselves after defecating. This was a place for slaves to work, not a hotel where bathroom amenities where given.

The lack of proper sanitation, coupled with the hard labor and revolting physical environments could only inevitably lead to sickness and disease. Bacteria and infections did not care if you were a slave. This then brought one more question.

Who healed the sick slaves?

The answer: no one. Rob, the mage, was only capable of rudimentary healing magic and basic first aid. That was it. Anything incredibly complex or even the basics such as a minor wound infection or a cold was out of his realm. This meant, of course, that the sick slaves would eventually either rot away or be worked till their literal deaths, in spite of their health conditions.

The slavers did not care. Slave labor was often appealing because of how little cost it required. All you needed to do was provide the slaves with food and water, and that was it. If they fell sick, it mattered little. They were replaceable. More slaves would be captured and brought in to replace the ones who died. Providing healthcare and sanitary locations would consume far too much of their expenses than they needed. Merely work the slaves until they collapsed from exhaustion or disease, dispose of the body, gain new slaves, rinse and repeat. Brutally simple and brutally effective.

Yet, that was not the end. No. It went worse.

The slavers were the type of people whose goal was to revive Zeref – a dark wizard. They were the type of people that had no qualms using child slaves. The type of people that could care less about torturing children.

Was I to believe, that these type of people would never fall prey to rape?

A single slave was negligible in the long run. A woman could find herself 'taken' one night from her cage, and dead the following morning, with the excuse given that she had been 'trying' to escape. Who would question them? Who would stand and call their bluff? Who would care?

The Stanford Prison Experiment from back home proved that humans, when given authority and power over their fellow species, would and could commit atrocities and feel perfectly justified doing so. Normal humans had been given the position as prison wardens, and they transformed into tyrannical and abusive beings. Here, I was dealing with fanatical cultists who had magical powers, ruling over a significant amount of slaves. It would be stupid to believe they would not do worse. It might not even be a _woman_ who found herself taken at night. It could be a _girl_.

Had Mashima understood the implications of slavery and slave labor? Had he cared? Or had he just decided that Erza needed a 'dark-and-troubled past' without realizing the connotations behind it? Or perhaps, I was misguided in blaming Mashima. For all I knew, it could be that this world existed, and Mashima had been somehow linked to it, thinking that it was all his imagination and not realizing he was writing about real people and real circumstances. If such were the case, it would make sense as to how and why the version displayed in the Fairy Tail manga and anime was ludicrously toned down.

I almost shook my head. No, Mashima was aware. Subconsciously aware. From the very first chapter, the first episode, he knew. Bora – the fool masquerading as Salamander, he had been kidnapping women. Kidnapping women to what end? Clearly it was not to try on corsets and compliment their dazzling smiles. No, they had been captured because they were going to be enslaved. And pray tell what, did one do with attractive female slaves?

So Lucy could have ended up a sex slave in the very first chapter, had it not been for Natsu. Erza grew up a child slave, who could have been taken and raped to death at any moment without anyone doing anything to stop it.

This world…

It darker than I expected it to be.

" _Hello my champion."_

I froze. The voice was familiar. Of course it was. Irritation and anger filled me up.

"Eris."

" _You don't need to speak out loud my champion – I am speaking directly to your mind."_

"I would prefer if I spoke aloud. I do not want you having access to my thoughts directly."

" _There are people around you."_

"And what does it matter? At best, they are asleep. At worse, they believe me to be insane and talking to myself."

A chuckle. " _So very true._ "

"You brought me to a tower of slaves." I said.

" _I brought you to a place with the highest concentration of negative energy and misery_."

"A. Tower. Of. Slaves."

" _So it is._ " She mused. _"I had nothing to do with the destination. And it is somewhat… fitting, or perhaps ironic, considering your past._ "

Fitting. _Fitting_ , she said. I grit my teeth. Oh, yes, I would most definitely kill her. I would make it slow, and I would make it painful.

"You gave me no means to protect myself." I began, "No knowledge of this world. No understanding of its history or peculiarities. Somehow, I can speak the same tongue, but I am certain I cannot read or write the language. You thrust me into this world to be your champion, and you sent me in as an extremely unprepared thirteen year old. It seems more and more likely that you intend for me to fail."

" _Now that's not completely true,"_ she said " _I gave you the ability to speak the language. I multiplied your reflexes by a factor of four. I increased your ability to take damage and your ability to heal from it. I believe this is more than enough, don't you?_ "

"No it is not," I hissed. "It is nowhere near enough."

" _You ask for too much. There are limitations and rules you know. I broke more than a hundred of them just bringing you from your world. I'm breaking at least a dozen more just by communicating with you as I am now. Until you begin generating chaos and misery, refueling my powers, you will have to make do with what you have."_

It confirmed my theory. She was weak. She did not have power.

"Alright." I said. "What do you need me to do?"

" _Take control of this place, take all the slaves, and make them start building a temple in my honor."_

"You must be joking."

" _I am not."_ She huffed. " _It would be the fastest way to regain my powers – aside from some ritual worship, or maybe some sacrifices –"_

"No."

" _What did you just say?_ "

"No." I repeated. "Not only is that plan ludicrous, it is unfeasible and unworkable. You would have me become a slave master just so I can feed your power and ego? You would have me do things I do not wish to do just for your eventual self-gratification?"

I scoffed. "What then is the difference between you and my former captors?"

" _The difference is – I am the being who gave you a second chance at life. I am the only reason that you are still breathing."_

"Then I would rather not breathe."

I became aware of the sound of crickets chirping, as the voice in my head went silent.

" _What are you saying?"_

"I died for my freedom once. Clawing, fighting, till my last breath. Do you believe I am unwilling to do so again?" I snarled "You underestimate me Eris. I was mistaken when we met. You are not an omnipotent being – you cannot control what I will do, and you would not need me if you were. You are not an omniscient being, because you do not know what I will do, and you did not know where I will land. You are merely a being who has attained significant power and an equal delusion to match."

" _You DARE –"_

"You are no less a god to me than a worm is a god to a termite."

Pain. Rocking, indescribable pain. I clenched my teeth together to stop myself from screaming out and waking everyone in the vicinity. It felt as though my entire body was immersed in boiling water, boiling water which increased in temperature every second. I had no choice but to turn to my hand, crunching down as hard as I could to muffle the strangled scream which was going to escape from my lips.

The pain stopped almost as suddenly as it began. I found myself wheezing – gasping, and panting, trying my best to draw breathe, trying to blink out the tears at the corner of my eyes.

" _Now you listen to me_ champion _,"_ she spat out " _I will ignore this slight on the grounds of you being slightly annoyed with the circumstances, and having a long day. However, there will be no more questioning me – no more fits of defiance. I am your God. If I tell you to jump, you leap, and you order gravity to stop and remain in the air until I tell you to get down. Have I made myself clear?_ "

I grit my teeth. "F-fuck y-you."

The pain returned.

" _And before you start thinking that you can kill yourself – I_ own _your soul. It doesn't matter how many times you try; I will force your soul back into your body again, and again, and again. You_ cannot _escape this agreement by dying. You do not belong to this world, and you are not recognized by Ankhersam. If you die your soul will constantly return to me, over, and over – as many times as necessary."_

I gnashed my teeth together as the pain stopped. Her recent declaration washed over me like a wave of cold water. I had signed my soul to the devil in the guise of an angel. A foolish decision – a foolish choice.

The advantage of all this was that I was essentially immortal.

The disadvantage of all this was that I was essentially an immortal slave.

 _Until I killed her_.

Yes… until then.

Until the day I wrung the neck of a god and watched the light leave her eyes – I was a slave.

" _I'll allow you to rest tonight and come to terms with your circumstances. By tomorrow, I expect you to be ready to fully dedicate yourself to me… my_ champion."

I was left to my own devices, on a cold floor in a stale room that stank of dried urine and constituted of snoring children. My mind ran. Ways, possibilities – options. The only way to attain my freedom would be to kill Eris.

How do I kill a god?

Godslayer Magic would seem to be the first option. However, Eris would never allow me gain it. It was impossible with her watching me. The minute I began practicing, she would know what my goal was, and she would become immensely suspicious and paranoid.

No, I could not become a Godslayer.

What options were left?

There were hundreds of different types of Magic in this world. Hundreds. None of them had the power needed to slay a god.

 _Alone_. My mind supplied. None of them had the power to slay a god, _alone_.

Together, however?

Celestial Spirit Magic. Dragonslayer Magic. Titan Magic. Make Magic. Sword Magic. Possession Magic. Take-Over Magic. Devil Slayer Magic. Demonic Magic. Demonic Curses. Lost Magic.

With all of them, together, it would be enough to slay a god.

No one sane would ever attempt learning all these different types of magic. They would most certainly be consumed or die trying.

But, I was not quite sane.

And I could afford to 'die trying.'

I closed my eyes, slowly allowing them to rest. I knew what my purpose was now. I knew what I needed to do. It mattered not the method. It mattered not ethics or principles. I would do anything to accomplish it. A man fighting for his freedom had nothing to lose and everything to gain. Everything to gain for my ultimate goal –

 _To kill a god._


	2. An Appetite for Evil

**As always - stay dark. Stay frosty.**

* * *

 **Deicide**

* * *

I woke with a start.

I was chained. No, not chained. I was held down by familiar leather strappings. Too familiar. I couldn't move. I was naked. The room I was in was pitch black. I could hear no sound. No – I could hear just one sound. A rather specific one. The sound of heels – heels that I knew were far too familiar.

A door was opened. A familiar door.

"Hello Jason. Are you ready for our _session_ today?"

Military camouflage shirt. Opened. A black bra binding slightly sagging breasts exposed. A leather skirt. Tight. A long slit running up the side. Stilettoes on her feet. A camouflage tinted tie on her neck. My gaze did not go to her face. It never did. When I attempted to do so – I would see nothing but a blank, faceless thing. I had stopped trying.

"I couldn't decide whether to go with naughty teacher, or hardened military woman," the voice that should not be speaking continued "So, I went with both. This will be _far_ more interesting, don't you think?"

I didn't answer. No, I focused instead on closing my eyes and breathing. "You're dead." I stated the simple fact. "I killed you. You're dead."

The clicking of deadly heels drew my attention, as did a familiar tutting. "Oh, poor, poor, Jason. Did you really think all that happened? You – somehow escaping these…" she ran her hands over the bindings "…and somehow killing me? All for some goddess to whisk you away to a magical land to be a child slave?"

Her breath tickled my ear. I felt my body freeze. My breath stopped. Instincts long forgotten returned as her tongue nibbled against my lobe.

"Come now Jason. Such things don't happen in the real world. I thought I had taught you better by now."

 _SLAP!_

"I thought you had understood how the real world works."

 _SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!_

A thick sob escaped her lips. "This – this is your fault Jason. You're the one making me do this. You don't learn. You never learn. You – you break my heart Jason."

 _SLAP!_

"I don't like doing this Jason!"

 _SLAP!_

"But you won't learn!"

 _SLAP!_

"Why won't you learn?! Why?! WHY?! WHY?!"

 _SLAP!_

"TELL ME WHY YOU'RE MAKING ME DO THIS TO YOU JASON!"

Her breaths and sobs intermingled. She sat on my lap. Sobbing. Sobbing. My cheeks felt dull. Too dull.

"I love you – Jason. I really love you. I – I can show you. I – I can!"

Her long fingered hands grabbed me. Slowly, roughly, her head descended. Her lips enveloped my cock. I said nothing. I made no movements. Her tongue went to work as it always had. I wasn't sure how long it took. She swallowed, like she always had. And she sounded happier. Like she always had.

"You'll never leave me… will you Jason? You'll be mine… you'll be mine… forever."

* * *

 **XXXX**

* * *

The smell of dried urine penetrated my nostrils.

My eyes followed suit, opening slowly. I was in the darkness. I was lying on the cold floor. I could not see. I wanted to move my body, but hesitated. Slowly, I made my arm reach for the sky.

 _Unrestricted._

I let out a small breath. I could move. I was not bound to a chair. My hands roamed downwards. I was wearing clothes. I wasn't naked. I roamed further down. Erect. Aroused. This thirteen year old body was undergoing puberty. I was not pleased with it.

I sat up. My surroundings came as a precedent, my gaze taking in the others in the room. Asleep, all of them. All asleep close to the old man – Rob. Scattered around haphazardly, in sleeping positions that were amusing in their variety. I shook my head at the sight. I refocused myself on my goal.

It was still early in the morning. I was still a slave. I could change one of those two facts. Escape. I needed a route or plan of escape. I could not afford to wait for the revolt. There could possibly not even _be_ a revolt. I needed to leave. I needed to leave immediately.

Power was precedent. I required it in immense amounts if I was to have any possibility of freeing myself from Eris. Magic was needed. Different types. As many as possible. There was a problem regardless. Eris would not merely sit and watch me gain power. She did not trust me. I would need to gain her trust.

"Goddess."

There was no response.

"Lady Eris."

I waited for several minutes.

" _For my champion to call me in his time of need."_ Her voice was sour. " _Well? What is it?_ "

I chose my words carefully.

"I have thought it over," I began "It is both unwise and foolhardy of me to fight with the being whose very charitability is the reason that I live. It was wrong of me to make those declarations and insults towards you, my Lady Eris. I would beg for your forgiveness, and for a second start in your service."

I waited. She seemed to hum. It was strange, hearing her voice and tones in my head.

" _Very well, I accept your apology."_ She said slowly, _"As for this second start – this would mean implicitly following my orders and commands. Are you aware of this?"_

I was. "Yes, my goddess. I am at your command."

" _Oh? So, you're absolutely willing to do anything I tell you to do?"_ the voice came in a soft cooing, " _No matter how vile and despicable by your human standards of morality? You will do it?_ "

A trap question. I knew where it was going. Answering in the affirmative would mean providing the necessary proof to substantiate my claim. Answering in the negative would give up my ploy of playing the subservient servant. Regardless of what I chose, the outcomes would be unfortunate. Hence, I decided it was best to continue the ploy as far as plausible.

"Yes."

A sound of contemplation.

" _Very well. Slaughter the old man and any two of the children of your choosing._ "

I froze.

" _Oh, and emphasis my dear champion, on_ slaughter."

Kill Rob? Kill not one, but two of Erza's companions? Impossible. I could care less about maintaining the sanctimony of a canonical timeline. I was rather instead focused on the consequences such an action would possess on the escape attempt and subsequent riots. Rob dying earlier, by the hand of a fellow slave rather than in some of selfless sacrifice could also ensure that Erza never unlocks her magical potential.

What would the Fairy Tail world look like without the Titania?

An interesting question. However, it was still not my concern. My very existence and that of the evil goddess Eris playing games as if moving chess pieces on a board ensured that the timeline was already fractured. Attempting to fracture it even further by killing them would be unwise. Yes, I possessed no intention of deliberately attempting to maintain the canonical timeline. However, I also possessed no intention of going out of my way to destroy it. Following Eris' command would most certainly be doing exactly that.

" _You hesitate, my champion. What is the matter? Were you not swearing about your complete determination to me?_ "

I wagered my options. Kill three innocents to prove a point to a goddess, and in the process most likely prevent the rise of Erza Scarlet. Refuse to do so, and expose my ploy as attempting to play the goddess close to the heart, thereby making her far warier and far less likely to be deceived in future.

This was very much a 'lose-lose' situation.

I stood. I turned my gaze to the sight of the children and to the old man. Slowly, I walked over to them. My feet hit the coarse, cold ground and shivers ran across my body. The first person I came across was the small Cat-lover. Millianna, if I believed correctly. It would be easy, to move my hands across her neck. To wring the live from her in seconds. I could pin her down and silently choke her to death. Or perhaps, I could search for a blunt object and smash it across her skull.

Easy. Too easy.

I clambered over her. She was directly beneath me. Her breaths were quiet. A small bead of sweat dripped from my forehead. My hands extended, forced by my own mental command. Slowly, they reached her neck, stopping mere centimeters away from making skin contact.

She whimpered and I froze.

I relaxed upon realizing what was happening. Her sleeping face contorted into a grimace. Her calm serene expression, replaced with turbulence and trouble. _A nightmare_ , the term came to me. _She is having a nightmare_. How unfortunate. She was having a nightmare and soon, she would awake to discover that nightmare a reality.

My hands steadied on her neck. Steadied.

 _Clench_.

My hands refused to obey.

 _Grab_.

Their rebellion was stronger.

 _Choke_.

They remained as limp and ineffective as a man with procreative problems.

" _Well?"_

"I can't."

I could not kill the girl. Perhaps I should have gone for the boys instead? Statistically, male lives were valued less than that of females. Perhaps it would be easier. Perhaps it would be harder. I was uncertain.

A snort. " _I cannot say I am surprised. All that talk – all of it was for some juvenile attempt at making me believe you are willing to be a faithful servant. All of it – some ridiculous ruse. Did you think that somehow, if you got me to trust you, you would be capable of changing your situation? Betraying me at the end after playing the role of the perfect servant?_ "

I said nothing. To deny would be to implicate myself. To agree would be to implicate myself further.

" _You know, it's ironic"_ she chuckled _"Had you actually gone ahead and killed them – it would have shown to me that you have no spine. That you are a weak-willed worm who would resign himself to his fate, rather than to stand and fight against it in spite of insurmountable odds. It would have meant that I misjudged you – and I had picked a pathetic champion. I would no longer want to be associated with you._ "

…What?

" _Essentially – had you followed that order, you would have gotten what you wanted: your freedom._ "

I grit my teeth.

Fuck.

Was she lying? No. So far, Eris had told no lies.

Fuck.

Were three lives worth my freedom?

 _FUCK._

" _Your defiance, my champion, is what makes you so interesting. Too much of it would be unacceptable, such as you daring to insult me, but at the same time, too little or none of it at all would be pathetic and dull. An unideal trait for the Champion of the Goddess of Chaos and Misery."_ She let out a sigh that was almost sensual. " _But the right amount of defiance and obedience… it would be perfect. That is why I chose you, of course, a man who defied the impossible, defied death, defied capture and defied_ everything _._ "

Her tone. Irritating. She sounded almost enamored. She was most likely insane. Or perhaps a form of sadist. I could not tell.

" _Ah, that reminds me. I did listen to your complaints, and I decided to leave you with a little gift – to ensure you survive long enough to stop being a slave._ " She said gleefully " _Not only will my gift solve your problem of being grossly weak and underprepared, it will also solve my problem of ensuring that you partake in your fair share of chaos and misery in my name._ "

I was not fond of that idea in the slightest.

" _You might feel a slight… tinge."_

I did my best to scramble away from the sleeping form of Millianna to stop myself from falling over her. I was barely able to stop myself from convulsing as my entire body felt as though it had been electrified. My muscles contracted and seized up, and I dropped to the ground in a dead heap.

The shocks subsided. I slowly regained control of my body. However – something was different. I could smell. I could smell far more clearly than I had any right to. I could smell, all around me, the vague aroma of roasted chicken. It was delicious. Mouthwateringly so. No – it was not just roasted chicken. Other meals – other, godsend meals – pot-roast, stir fry, noodles, and on and on it went. I could feel my mouth get moist. Moister. It was filled to the brim with saliva.

"What… what is this?"

" _I have gifted with you, my champion, the ability to sniff out and consume the raw essences of chaos and misery._ " Eris said gleefully. " _When you consume ambient chaos or misery in the air – you also consume what is known as Ethernano – granting you access to magic, refilling your reserves, healing you, strengthening your bones and muscles, making you stronger and faster. As a benefit – it tastes like actual meals and will fill you up just as much as eating the food itself."_

I was skeptic. I put my tongue out into the air, the ambient air –

 _Juicy tender steak wrapped in bacon, stuffed inside chicken._

The taste was maddening. Absolutely maddening. It felt – it felt like I could _actually_ taste it. It felt more tangible than should have been possible. Slowly, my mouth was watering again.

" _Oh, and my champion, when you consume the chaos and misery from people's souls… it tastes_ better."

Better? That was impossible. Was it? Could it be possible?

I flickered my gaze to Millianna. She was still having her nightmare. There was a strong, wafting aroma of freshly baked bread emitting from her. Stronger than the ambient smells in the background. It overwhelmed my senses and almost sent me scrambling in her direction had I not stopped myself.

" _And because I am such a loving goddess,_ " the voice came back, almost overwhelmed with giddiness " _If you are the_ cause _of the chaos and misery you end up consuming – the taste is multiplied by a factor of ten, and you also experience a certain level of… euphoria… unlike anything you have ever felt._ "

This was bad. It was immensely bad. Yet, it was smart. It was so ingeniously smart, that had I not despised Eris, I would have applauded her for this ploy. Food was the one thing that no living being was capable of doing without. Delicious or aromatizing foods, even more so. This was basic hardwiring into my system. Once I attained a taste for the chaos, normal foods would become bland and tasteless in comparison. I would come back for it, daily. I would want to have it all. Soon, I would exhaust my available reserves. When that happened – I would seek to _create_ more – I would seek to cause chaos and misery everywhere I went, purely in the name of sanguinary palatal satisfaction.

The alternative would be to starve myself. This would be the equivalent of putting a full roast duck on a plate in a room with a starving man chained to the floor. Daily living would be an absolute torture, with the realization that you are mere inches away from an ambrosial delight.

Another alternative, would be to cut off my tongue and nose. However, the odds were that Eris would just make them grow back. No matter how many times she had to.

Ingenious. Devious. Eris was shrewder than I gave her credit for. The question was no longer a matter of _if_ I would go around spreading chaos and misery, but _when_.

"You –"

What would I say? Curse her? A pointless endeavor. Praise her? I would rather bite off my tongue. There was nothing I could say in this situation. All that was left was a waiting game.

" _Making these alterations to you came at a significant cost of my power, my champion._ " She said in a huffy tone. " _It will take a while to recharge. I will not speak with you for another two… perhaps four months? In that time – do as you will._ "

Four months. So she granted me autonomy to do as I wish for the next four months. Of course she did. There was very little doubt in her mind that I would do her bidding now. She no longer needed to watch over my shoulder like a guiding parent. The signature 'link' I felt with her faded, along with her presence and voice.

I was to fight a battle against my sense of smell and my desire for a good meal.

I lost in five seconds.

Even before I was brought to this world, I was starved. Months. For months – I had been fed nothing but stale bread and water. Sometimes, I was given dogfood. Other times, cold, spoiling leftovers. I had not eaten anything that could be respectfully called a meal. I had forgotten what good food tasted like.

And now – it was all around me.

I could feel it the very second I opened my mouth and drew it in. The overwhelming amount of misery and chaos present in the tower of heaven. The mesh of it, caused and fueled by the sorrow of the slaves and the general maliciousness of the slavers blended together into what my palates recognized as steak wrapped bacon. Delicious, juicy bacon. Rich, salacious steak. I could feel it in my mouth, feel myself chew on it, feel when I swallowed it.

My cheeks felt wet.

The taste felt too real. Far too real. Consciously, I was aware that there was no food. However, my sense of taste and sense of smell disagreed angrily. There was food – and I must consume it.

I must consume it all.

I could see it. Coagulating in front of me. It was like a thick, creamy miasma. The ambient chaos in the air. The thick sorrow in the atmosphere. I chewed. I munched. I swallowed it all greedily. It was a lot. Too much for one person to consume. A literal buffet.

I stopped, slurping and licking at my lips.

My body felt lighter. It felt better. Better than I could remember. My skin glowed darkly. For several seconds, a purple glow engulfed me. It sucked itself into my body. My skinny body was filled with rich healthy flesh. My thin ribcage was covered. My stomach transformed into a toned, fit form. Small mounds of muscles developed around my arms. My bones felt like tempered steel. Adrenaline pumped throughout my system and made me feel invincible. There was something else that was pumped – something that I could mentally pick apart.

Dopamine. Oxytocin. Serotonin.

It rushed through my system. It made me… happy.

Almost as quickly, it was gone. The rush ceded. I was left with nothing. A strange, empty nothingness.

I disliked the nothingness. I tremendously disliked it.

I settled for consuming more of the meaty miasma.

More and more of it.

As much as I could.

I would suck the Tower of all its ambient chaos if I had to.

As long as I did not feel… nothing.

* * *

 **XXXX**

* * *

Eris was satisfied.

She was satisfied with her plan. She had doubted how well it would work, but it seemed to have been worth it in the end. Her champion would no doubt consume the sweetness of the chaos, completely unaware of the side-effects they possessed. He would be so busy filling himself that he would fail to realize that chaos was a finite resource, and he could not merely just absorb so much of it from somewhere without consequences.

Even if he did realize the consequences and implications she doubted he would care that much. It would only be a matter of time before he equally began spreading his fair share of chaos – so there wasn't much to worry about.

This was a major investment of hers – one that she could not afford to botch up so easily. At the very least, as a resident of another world, his actions were untraceable by the other gods. His fate was uncertain and could not be predicted by any form of magic. His destiny was unknown by time. He was, for all intents and purposes – a Wildcard. Even _she_ did not know what he would do or what he was capable of.

She had no plans for him, except to set him lose, sit back, and watch the fireworks.

His mere existence was already shattering destines and changing time. Merely by bringing him _into_ the world, she had thrown it into chaos. It was thrown into chaos by the presence of a foreign invader. And everything he did further would only serve to increase her powers and domain. Even if he somehow, sickeningly went about saving damsels in distress and doing 'good' rather than murdering, pillaging and raping everything in sight – he was still throwing a wrench into fate and destiny. Saving people that should have been saved by someone else, causing important conversations and events not to happen, making several meetings not to happen – it was like watching the slow, tantalizing unravelling of a thread.

As every good tailor knew, all it took was the unraveling of one thread – to make the entire garment fall into pieces.

* * *

 **XXXX**

* * *

Morning came uneasily.

"Wake up you fucking pieces of shit! It's time for work!"

Uneasily. An understatement. The slavers banged their rods against the cages. The irritating ring of metal being struck repetitively woke me up. I could not complain. I felt charged, filled to the brim with energy. Overflowing with it.

I came to the realization that this extra energy was as a result of consuming nearly all the chaos and misery in the air. It was also as a result of now possessing Ethernano in my body. Magic. The power of magic. It ran up my fingers, trickled down my spine. Magical energy spoke to me in a strong way. It hummed, whispering ways and manners for it to be released, none of which I possessed access to.

For all the lore of Fairy Tail – the very _specifics_ of how one went about learning magic was shrouded in mystery. For Natsu, he learned from a dragon. For Erza, she unlocked hers in a fit of rage and despair. For Lucy, she used spirit keys. For Gray, all I knew was that he stood nigh-naked in some snowy hills and learnt it from Ul. There were no specific instructions, such as, for instance, the Naruto-world where the basics of ninjutsu were explained in detail.

I possessed magical energy. However, I did not know how to go about using it.

"Didn't you hear me you little shit? I said it's time for work!"

I contemplated ways in which I could learn. Surely, just focusing my magical energy into what I wished for it to do, and then _imbuing_ the necessary willpower was not all there was to such a complex art? Then again, this was not the Nasuverse or the Potterverse. Supposedly, the rumored One Magic in this world is _love_. _Love_ of all things. _A chemical reaction of oxytocin, epinephrine, and dopamine_ is the source of all reality warping abilities. It was laughable on a scale I could not even begin to contemplate.

"Are you ignoring me you fucking brat?"

"J-Jason… J-Jason…!"

Regardless, it was implied numerous times that the magic chooses the mage more often than the mage choosing the magic. I found that to be questionably incorrect. If such were the case, then special lachrima which granted magical powers should not exist. It also did bring about a question. Why did most mages stick to only one magic? The exceptions, of course, being the likes of August and God Serena from the final Alvarez Empire arc – the former possessing the ability to copy any magic, and the latter supposedly having eight or so Dragonslayer lachrima inserted in his body.

Regardless, why focus on only one field of magic?

Makarov could have learned Take-Over Magic if he so wished, to incorporate with his Titan Magic. He did possess some knowledge of other magic arts, such as the Amaterasu formation, and the Fairy Sphere. What stopped him from doing so? Similarly, Mirajane possessed knowledge of basic transformation magic, yet, her major magic was still the Take-Over: Satan Soul. Why didn't she learn other forms of magic to incorporate with her ––

My body went limp and my eyes went wide as the familiar sensation of an electric rod slammed against me.

"Know your place slave!" the man spat.

Somehow, the pain was numb. Dull. It didn't feel as bad as I remembered. Instead, my mind was still clear, strangely clear. Clear enough to wonder what the rod was made of and how it worked. It didn't truly feel like _real_ electricity running up and down me. More likely it was magic – magic which focused particularly on the pain nerves in the body – doing damage to it which mimicked the damage of electricity.

The pain stopped. I stared blankly. I could not muster up the strength to be angry or incensed. My ultimate target was a god. I would need to kill a god in future. Humans – trifling, petty humans like this slaver were more or less an annoyance.

"What the fuck are you looking at?"

I turned my gaze. The old man Rob, Erza, and her companions – they glanced at me with worry in their eyes. Worry, and the vague sense of helplessness. I frowned when my nose picked up on the smells. Worry smelt like bananas. Helplessness smelt like a delectable grapefruit.

I turned my attention back to the standing man. Insecurity and anger – ginger and red hot chili peppers.

This was making no sense. I could smell _every_ emotion. I thought I could only smell 'chaos' and misery? Had Eris known this was going to happen? Was this an unexpected side-effect? Why did they smell like fruits and vegetables rather than complete meals?

More importantly… could I also eat them?

What would happen… if I ate someone's emotions?

The fact that I had been in my head for too long came to me in the form of the slaver bringing down his electrifying rod in a wicked snarl.

"Stop!" Electricity "Staring!" Pain "At!" Numbness "Me!" Pain again.

I did not.

I shook my head.

"I pity you."

He did not seem to appreciate the sentiment.

"AAAARRRGGH!"

Blind Rage – Spicy, delicious curry.

So I opened my mouth –

And I swallowed it whole.

* * *

 **XXXX**

* * *

Rob was wary. He had been wary of the boy called Jason ever since he met him. Something about the boy had not been normal, and despite being a slave, he had not lost that sharp instinct he had possessed in his younger days when he was a mage. The boy seemed to be the sort that dozed off with his eyes open, merely staring into the air blankly with little to no recognition of where he was.

This was a bad thing to do, when their jailer had arrived. This one, this jailer, he was one of the ones that was particularly brutal – taking great pleasure in the suffering of others. It was best to avoid angering him, but Jason, being new and being who he was, seemed not to notice the slaver. He seemed to be intent on ignoring him completely. The slaver did not like it in the slightest.

Rob would admit that it was a bone-chilling scene. Those whips and staffs which were used to punish them were magical in nature, and they dealt _a lot_ of damage and pain that would and could reduce a grown man to a sniveling wreck. Yet, this boy took all the angry beatings of the slaver without flinching. His eyes were open, and he was staring – staring deep at the slaver as though he were a child attempting to solve a rather difficult crossword puzzle. His gaze, especially with his red eyes, was incredibly unnerving, and it seemed to only rile up the slaver more and more as he refused to stop gazing.

Then, the boy had spoken.

"I pity you."

The cold shiver that ran down his spine at those three words would forever haunt his memory.

The slaver, predictably, had roared out in rage, bringing his rod down for a more severe beating –

But stopped.

No one could explain it. Jason's mouth was open, and the slaver just… stopped. He didn't move. It was almost as though he _couldn't_ move. At the same time, the boy in question, Jason, seemed to have gained a soft red glow around his body – all his wounds seemed to be mending themselves, his bruises vanishing, his cuts and scrapes receding. The boy appeared slightly healthier than before, and his face –

Rob shuddered.

The boy's face was contorted into one of ecstatic bliss. It was highly inappropriate, the manner in which his eyes rolled into his head, his tongue hung out, and he let out short, frantic breaths – almost as though he had… had…

"Rage… burning hot. Tremendously bad for your health." He said with a raspy voice. His hand gestured outward to the frozen guard, and Rob's eyes widened when he felt the sharp _spark_ of ethernano gather in the air.

The guard's body exploded.

Erza and Millianna screamed.

The epicenter was covered with blood, more blood than Rob ever wanted to see. Yet, it was covered with very little flesh. Jason stood, stained red, guts and the large intestine wrapped around his neck like a comfortable scarf. A fleshy bone hand landed directly in front of him, and aways from him, scattered guts, ribs, and steaming hot pieces of flesh. The sound of someone vomiting echoed into Rob's ears, and he realized, that the sound was everyone, all the children and himself – all except the… _devil_ with red eyes.

Jason stood in the middle of the massacre, appearing like a boy who just had his first orgasm. Judging by the bulge in the boy's pants, it was almost certain that it had been the case.

Then, the boy's eyes turned in their direction.

And Rob knew the meaning of fear.


	3. The Start of Corruption

**If last chapter did not send the message about how the kiddies gloves are off when it comes to writing dark stuff, this one probably will. Also - thank you for the wonderful reviews.**

 **Kindly enjoy the depravity.**

* * *

 **Deicide**

* * *

I was in a chair again.

The room was dark. Dark as it was. Dark as it will continue to be. Until the door opened once more. Opened to a surprise.

"Yo… Jason! How're you doing today bro?"

It wasn't _her_ today. It was _him_.

"Damn, my mom did a real number on you eh?"

I said nothing.

"Yeah, she can be a real bitch sometimes. She's reeeaaal crazy bro. Like, totally nuts. The problem is, she doesn't even _know_ she's nuts. I mean, that just kind of sucks."

He continued rambling.

"I mean, I'm crazy, but I _know_ I'm crazy. So I can take responsibility for my craziness. But her? Jeez."

He walked around me, sighing.

"By the way, has my sister come to visit you yet? I kinda doubt it. Though, you'd like it if she did wouldn't you? You'd like to ride her hard and raw. Don't be shy – hell, _I'd_ like to ride her hard and raw. Don't tell her that though – bitch has issues. She's hot – but too much issues dude. She bit off her boyfriend's dick one-time cause he shoved it too deep and tried to turn a casual blowjob into a deepthroat in a position that was wayyy not acceptable."

He slapped me across the back.

"I guess that's what you'd call a _dick move_ , right man?" he laughed, "I was watching her through a peephole though. Fucking cocktease probably knows I have one in her room, but pretends she doesn't. Hah! As if she'd really stand in the same spot to wear her underwear every day. She's giving me a hard time on purpose, I just know it."

He walked in front of me and shook his head.

"Speaking of hard times, I kinda feel for you though dude. I mean, you travelled six fucking states just to try and hook up with my mom and get some ass. She was your teacher in elementary school right? Damn. Guess you didn't know how loco she was. You knew she had kids right? Course you did. You wanted that hot teacher MILF pussy and you wanted it bad. It coulda been the greatest fucking achievement of your lifetime."

He shrugged.

"Life has a way of fucking us all up, the least fucking way we expect it. So I say, go out, fuck everything, and go fucking wild. Course, there's the downside of hindering other people, but hey – we hinder people all the fucking time just by existing – so who gives a shit."

"Are you going to hose me down or are you just going to keep rambling?"

He staggered back exaggeratedly. "Whoo! Puppy's still got some fangs. Well yeah, I was gonna hose you down, but since you've still got fangs, I've got a better idea."

I saw him bring out the towel. I saw him line up the hose. "What – what are you doing?"

"Don't worry man, I'm not gonna kill you. My mom would go totally nuts and bonkers if I did. Well, more nuts and bonkers." He grinned, "I'm just really curious man – about this water torture stuff. See – I've always heard about how crazy it is, and that CIA guys and what not couldn't even last five minutes of it. I wanna see how true that is."

The towel was placed over my face and nothing I did would shake it off.

I heard his muffled voice. "I'd say sorry about this dude, but I'm not. Not really. Maybe one day, you'll gain the opportunity to use your power over someone weaker. You'll _probably_ understand just how fucking great it feels to have someone at your mercy… and you'll fucking love it man. You'll fucking love it."

The water came down.

"You'll fucking love it."

* * *

 **XXXX**

* * *

Where… where was I?

What… had happened?

My mind was hazy. Too hazy. I could barely grasp at concrete thoughts and facts. All except one. One abstract thought.

 _Pleasure_.

I shuddered at the shockwave of pleasure. It was ineffable. Indescribable. I felt as though an angel descended down on me with the tightness of a vice-grip. As if a goddess had wrapped her tongue around me and sucked until I was absolutely dry. I had never felt pleasure this great in my entire life. It was addictive. Maddening.

Slowly, however, it began to recede. Rational thought was taking it's place. My eyes were opening, and my nose was beginning to pick up other scents. I was vaguely aware of something across my neck.

A bloody intestine.

It wrapped around my neck like a scarf.

That was… unusual.

Ah… I remembered. The guard – slaver – he had exploded, had he not?

How had that happened?

Oh, yes. I'd consumed his rage.

Rational thought began to fill my mind as I remembered what had happened. Consuming someone's rage at peak value was comparable to opening a bottle of coke after shaking it for seven hours nonstop, and inserting several mints for good effort. I could sense it happen before it did. All his rage, converted into raw, explosive, fiery magical power in fractions of a second, and all that magical power, pulsing through his body, rapidly demanding an escape. I came along, drawing upon it and expelling that explosive power from his body instantaneously.

The results were clear.

I wanted to feel something for the scene in front of me – for the smell of death and the guts of the slaver that was now around my neck – but I could not. I could not feel anything because my mind was still hazy. Hazy from post-orgasmic bliss. Because I was the _cause_ of this Eris' 'gift' made it so I would feel erotic pleasure from the chaos I had created.

I could not feel disgust. I could not feel trepidation. I could not feel any negative emotions towards the sight before me. All I could feel, was a desire for _more._

 _More._

This compulsion – it was the equivalent to Pavlovian training with drug addiction. Rewards for good actions, negativity for bad actions. Except, in this case, it was the reverse. Part of me had contemplated fighting it. That action seemed less and less possible as time went by.

 _Has Eris already won?_

I found myself asking the question. I needed to gain my freedom from her – to refuse to be her puppet – but this scheme of hers, manipulating my very senses and my sense of what was good and what was pleasurable – it was a tactic that nearly very well guaranteed her victory.

 _No. No she hasn't._

This power, _her_ power – I would utilize it in my goal of killing her. I would make it merely another tool in my arsenal, another tool to climb further up the ladder to godhood. It was a tremendously useful tool, I would admit. But – it did not guarantee her victory. No – it did not. My goal was still the same. My compulsion and need to feed on chaos and emotions like some sort of emotional vampire was merely a slight hindrance or perhaps, unexpected boon.

My goal was unchanged.

I would kill her.

Still, I could not help but wonder what she would taste like, literally, sexually and figuratively. She was the embodiment of negative emotions… how would she taste to my senses? What sort of maddening pleasure would I receive from consuming her essence?

I would need to find out.

The sound of retching and coughing reached my ears and drew me from my post-orgasmic bliss. Ah – of course, the old man Rob and the children. I had almost forgotten about them. I sniffed the air.

Onions _– fear_.

Oddly understandable. I closed my eyes and tried to recall every emotion and smell I had experienced till date.

Worry – bananas.

Helplessness – grapes/grapefruits.

Insecurity – gingers.

Anger – peppers.

Rage – spicy curry.

Fear – onions.

Fascinating. The more negative the emotions, the stronger the smell. Emotions were a mix of fruits and vegetables, but raw chaos and misery were complete meaty meals. I wondered what emotions tasted like dessert. Which ones tasted like cake, or perhaps ice cream?

I disregarded the thought. I would find out in time. There was no need for me to be overly curious. Instead –

"So…" my voice cut across the room like a whip, and everyone flinched. It was amusing, to see Erza Scarlet and Jellal Fernandez – jump at the sound of my voice in frightened gestures. Considering that in the future, these would be two of the strongest mages in the world.

 _Or would they?_

The stray thought entered my head. I wanted to disregard it. I didn't. I couldn't help but wonder at the truth of it, actually. What real reason did I possess to make sure that the plot progressed exactly as I had remembered it? What reason did I have to let Erza and Jellal carry out their pre-ordained lives? This dilemma had occurred to me when Eris had ordered me to kill two of Erza's companions, but now, as I thought about it further, I saw no reason. My existence ensured that any 'future' knowledge I possessed was irrelevant, as my actions had most likely already changed the course of destiny.

What was stopping me, from killing Jellal or Erza now?

Why would I? Simple. To severely weaken Fairy Tail who would most likely become my adversaries in future. To ruin Hades' plans for a puppet in Jellal. To eliminate the entire needless Tower of Heaven 'arc' once and for all.

 _To taste the despair from Rob and Millianna._

Why wouldn'tI? Because I was a good person, and I would be killing innocents.

 _Why bother being 'good?'_

Why indeed. What did I have to gain from such a moral stance?

Eris brought me to this world in a new body. She did not bring me into it with a new mind. My mind was the same before my death. Or perhaps, slightly worse. The fragments of sanity I possessed were not much. I was aware. My thought processes were presumably not normal. My speech even more so. The voice in my head in which I conducted all my thinking was clipped and formal. Cold. Calculating. It had not always been that way. Constant oxygen deprivation, wooden rulers and hardback encyclopedias were to blame for that. Whenever _she_ desired to play the role of the naughty principal, it acerbated the case. My hand moved to my throat. It was strange, not possessing the strangulation marks. I had enjoyed tracing my hand over them.

"Y-you – killed him."

I turned my head up. One of them finally regained their ability to speak. Who was it? My gaze turned – of course, it was Erza. I did not feel surprised.

"Yes." I said simply. Explaining would be a waste of time and effort. Although it had not been my intention, and I had no idea that eating his rage would kill him, I did not care much for his death.

"I applaud you for your confidence in stating the obvious. Was there anything you wished to add to that revelation?"

Sarcasm. Strange. It had been so long since I used it. Normally I'd be slapped or whipped for it. It felt nostalgic.

My voice seemed to spur all of them back to the present.

"Erza – get back," Jellal hissed, "He's dangerous."

"He – he killed one of the slavers!"

"By making him expl –" Jellal seemed to struggle with the word, his face going green. "We don't know how he did it –"

"He used magic!" Erza was more stubborn than I thought. "Y-you – you used magic didn't you?"

I shrugged. "More or less." Admittedly, I was surprised that they could hold this conversation in a room that smelt of so much blood, guts and putrefaction. Of course, I remembered that they were slaves.

"Magic!" she seemed more excited at the concept of magic than I would expect. Excited enough to take several steps forward, towards me.

"Erza –"

"ERZA-NEE!"

"Erza get back!"

Millianna, Simon, and… I forgot what the blond one's name was. They three youngest – they yelled out their concern for Erza, as though she was rushing forward towards a wild, dangerous animal. The old man was quiet, far too quiet, and I did not like it.

"If I wanted to kill you – any of you – I would have done it already."

It was strange for me to utter such an iconic movie line, and actually literally mean it. If I wanted them dead, I could have killed them while Eris gave me the chance. Although I was still debating killing Erza or Jellal – I was uncertain about their fates for now.

 _Kill them… so much easier… so much more fun… unpredictable…_

"Y-you – with your magic," Erza began, slowly, and I could perceive onions and gingers. Fear and insecurity…? No… _uncertainty_. Interesting. "You could escape! You could help us escape! Take care of all the slavers!"

Interesting how she used _take care of_ instead of _kill_. My lips twitched.

Unfortunately, it was not that simple. I could only 'kill' people if they were filled with rage, and I ate their rage up. Otherwise, I had no real magical ability to speak of, except, of course, for some slightly greater-than-average strength, constitution, and magical power. This was, however, more than what most of the slaves possessed. The pertinent question, however, remained –

"Why would I?"

Erza stumbled back. "W-what?"

"Why would I?" I repeated. "I can use my power and escape alone, by myself, and leave you all to rot here. Tell me – what do I have to gain from helping you escape?"

It was a testament to her surprising naiveté that this had not occurred to her. It had not occurred to any of them.

"You bast –" I shot Jellal a cold glare, and he froze in place. I forgot he was such a petulant child when he was younger.

"Well?" I repeated. "What will you give me, in exchange for your freedom?"

"I –" she grit her teeth, glaring at me "I don't have anything to give!"

 _Oh… but she does…_

"You do."

"What?" she looked confused.

"You can give me… you."

"I… don't understand –"

My nose peaked up on burning, red hot peppers, and my gaze snapped to their source, the _righteous anger_ that came from the old man Rob as he rose to his feet.

"I WILL NOT ALLOW IT!" he practically roared, and I put my pinky into my ear.

"I, likewise, do not appreciate unripe fruits. My request is for when she is much older, and far riper."

The final word escaped my lips and I stopped to reconsider it. What… was I doing?

Was I really making such demands – extracting sexual favors from a child in exchange for their freedom – what – this was _not_ me –

 _But it is… it is now…_

My mind told me what I was doing was wrong. My nose, picking up on the conflict of emotions told me it was right. My lower member, slowly filling with blood at the thought of Erza Scarlet one day being mine to claim told me it was right. Hormones flooding this puberty driven body and desiring an outlet told me it was right. The mix of spices in the air, conflicting emotions and slowly settling despair which sung to me like a well cooked meal told me it was right.

And He – _He_ was right. He had been right. To have this power, this power over them – this power over someone – to hold their fate in your hands and use it as you wished –

It was intoxicating.

"I. Will. Not. Allow. It." Rob said again, possessing far more energy than a man his age possessed any right to.

"Your refusal has no weight." I said simply. "It is her decision ultimately. It is either she sells her chastity sometime in the future in exchange for her immediate freedom, or she remains a slave, and has it stolen regardless by a slaver with a fetish for young redheads."

Rob flinched. Visibly. I rose an eyebrow.

"Do not expect me to believe that you never contemplated the possibility of these two girls under your care being raped by the slavers?"

He flinched again.

"So you did not. You are far too optimistic and naïve for a man with that many gray hairs."

He gritted his teeth. "What kind of monstrous child _are_ you?!"

"The patient and content kind," I replied, "The impatient and greedy kind would have demanded Millianna as well, and ordered them both to strip here and now."

The younger girl ducked behind the old man, and he snarled at me. "Over my dead body."

"That is not a condition you can afford to make so cheaply. Killing you would be more of a warm-up exercise than a challenge."

I did not understand why I could say the things I said so simply. But it felt good. Their conflicting emotions, their rage, their helplessness, and the high-tensions – I bathed in it – I lavished in it – I could feel it all around me like I was in the world's greatest sauna.

 _Say what you want – Do what you want – Take what you want –_

 _You'll fucking love it._

Erza was torn between two emotions – ginger – uncertainty and disgust… _cucumbers._

Jellal was overpowering with the aroma of peppers, slowly turning into curry, indicating his anger and bubbling rage… and then there was something new there as well… _lemons_ … jealousy.

I was amused. Even now, Jellal held this fascinating crush on Erza. Perhaps I should have demanded to do it here and now, and turn him into a cuckold? I wondered if NTR would have a particularly exquisite taste…

"Well?" I said, turning my attention back to the red-head. "I cannot be bothered to wait all day. What is your answer?"

She seemed to be stewing over the decision more and more, and she looked closer than ever to uttering the magical three-letter word –

"Don't do it Erza!" Jellal insisted, "We don't need this guy to help us escape! Remember, we have _that!_ "

I wanted to burn Jellal. My doubts about killing him slowly faded away with certainty. I _would_ kill him. Erza seemed to remember 'that' and then rapidly shook her head, stepping back away from me with the heavy tinted scent of cucumbers – disgust.

Unfortunate.

"You have made your choice."

 _They DARE – kill – kill – KILL THEM! MAKE THEM SUFFER!_

I made my way to the door, my teeth firmly clenched to stop myself from salivating. Rob stood protectively in front of the children. I was amused. Perhaps, under different circumstances, I would have attempted to befriend the lot. Communicate with them genuinely. Gain them as allies.

This was not under different circumstances. They were children and I was a psychologically damaged young adult from a different world, who thrived and gained palatal and sexual pleasure from negative emotions and chaotic situations. We had no common interests. We could possess no common interests. The age gap was a factor. The knowledge gap was a factor. The perspective gap was a factor. I doubted it would be appropriate to regal children with tales of the time a dildo was put in my mouth. Or descriptions of how your wrist strained to imbed a knife into a skull. Or perhaps tell them about how my thoughts were filled with how delicious their despair would taste if I were to rape or kill one of their friends.

No – the 'heroes' of this world would never understand my perspective, or condone my newfound pleasures.

 _Feed off their despair –_

Even now, it took all of my willpower not to rush at them and do something I might regret later. I needed to focus, think – _think_ – about something, anything except from how juicy Erza's despair would taste if I were to mount her and –

Magic. Think about magic.

"Rob was it?" I said as I stopped at the door. "Tell me – the source of all magic in the world… you believe it is love… do you not?"

The sudden question threw them all for a loop. Rob even more so. It did not stop him from answering however.

"It is."

"That would mean – all magic is fueled by emotion – emotion and intent. We mold this within us, and then the ethernano in the air converts this for us into supernatural feats… is that not so?"

He did not answer. However, he did not need to. I could tell by his expressions, that I was right on the mark. The answer came to me after I had made the slaver explode. His anger and rage, when converted into magic, had manifested itself as heat and explosive force. Emotions and intent, were the primary determiners of how to attain magic, as one's own emotions affected the 'nature' of the spell.

Mirajane's Satan Soul transformation was reliant on emotions, and she lost the ability to use it after believing her sister died.

Natsu's strength rose significantly with rage and anger.

Fairy Tail mages gained more power whenever they fought for 'their nakama' and loved ones.

Mavis once stated that the Fairy Sphere spell which had saved the Tenroujima group from destruction, had not been powered by her, but by the strong bonds and emotions which existed between the members, and she had merely converted that into magical energy.

It made sense. The in-universe reason as to how Fairy Tail could win battle after battle.

Magic was emotion. Emotion was magic.

I could eat emotions. Ergo –

 _I could eat magic._

I would have laughed out loud had I been the more dramatic sort. Eris did not realize the nature of what she had done – she did not realize just what exactly she had empowered me with.

I turned to the group. I possessed no need for them any longer. I supposed it would be best to leave them with a few departing words.

"You may revile me." I began, turning to Jellal. "You may not understand me." I turned to Rob. "You may fear me." I turned to the children in his care. "I care little for which you choose. However," I stepped out of the cell, dropping my bloody intestine 'scarf' on the floor.

"You will remember me."

* * *

 **XXXX**

* * *

The clock was ticking.

I rushed through the corridors in the Tower of Heaven, my nose peeled for the smell of anything vaguely resembling food. It did not take me long to realize the benefits of my power. Places that smelled of food were places that were high in chaos and/or misery. These were places occupied with the slavers, and hence, the places to avoid. As an advantage, I sniffed ahead for the smell of any sort of fruit or snack. When I could smell something, it meant that someone was coming – most likely a slaver. I would then do my best to hide behind walls, or duck into areas that would ensure where I could not be seen. When my nose picked up no smells other than the ambient meaty aroma of the Tower of Heaven, I would proceed down the path to escape.

My goal was not to get to the ships. I knew that was where Erza and her band of companions were headed. The group realized with my departure, that it was an ample time to conduct their escape plan. My nose could pick up the general aroma of spaghetti in that area – meaning that it was a place that was a hotspot of activity. They would get caught eventually. Erza would be taken and she would lose her eye. Jellal would be taken and tortured. The rebellion would begin.

Fascinating how my presence had not changed anything. Rather, it accelerated the timing it happened. It made them grasp at that chance for escape earlier than they would have otherwise.

I had a feeling this would kick-start a 'butterfly effect' situation. However, I did not know to what extent it would spread.

I stared at the long, stony hallway. My bare feet were bruised and filled with scratches. My thirteen-year-old body did not feel remotely tired. The very second I felt tired, I would open my mouth, and swallow more of the ambient bacon-tasting chaos in the air, and I would be back to full strength. This allowed me to keep sprinting for as long as I could, occasionally only slowing down to allow my nose to pay close attention to smells.

My feet touched marble, and I stopped. My gaze went upwards. Behind me, the carved, jagged-like rock of the Tower of Heaven. In front of me, smooth, elegant black marble, a brilliant ceiling filled with lights, and three branching hallways.

 _The living quarters_.

Slavers were an extravagant lot. They needed to possess living quarters as well to maintain the slaves on a daily basis. I wagered – correctly – that it would be included in the tower. I did, recall, from the anime, that Millianna once captured the blue cat, Happy, in a large, fancy room that was hers. Although it was likely that the room came into existence under Jellal's supervision, it was more likely that it had existed beforehand and used by the slavers, but was converted afterwards.

There were three paths to follow. I hesitated. My nose would not be of much use here. It was unlikely for something chaotic to be happening in the slaves living quarters.

 _Freshly baked Cake. Baguettes. Toast._

I spoke too soon.

"Stop squirming you little fucking bitch!"

The voice came from behind me. I scowled. I dashed forward, taking refuge in one of the three passageways. If it was the one the unknown slaver chose to follow, I would be out of luck. I waited. My breath stilled. Then, came strolling in a slaver. Large. Pudgy. Wearing the same mask and robes. I paid no attention to his details. Like the rest of this place, the rest of these people, the details were superfluous. My mind skimmed them over. However, my mind failed to skim over what was held in his hand.

A girl. Small. Young. White hair. Crying.

I turned my gaze back to the slaver. A grin was on his face. A familiar grin.

"Heh – if you're good enough – I'll even let you keep your life bitch. Maybe."

He walked past me. The girl's smell drew me. I felt my mouth water and the aroma of what I now knew to be pure misery.

It smelt like baked goods and desert. Pure misery smelt like an ungodly, mouthwatering desert.

I clenched my teeth down to stop myself from salivating. This was worse. Worse than I expected. There was a reason why bakeries often gained significant amounts of purchases. The reason was the smell – the smell of freshly baked bread or products incited an instinctive desire in the human mind to make a compulsive purchase. To pass by the smell of baked goods and not be tempted to taste it was an impossible feat. This feat was now amplified significantly in me.

It was twisted. A young slave, about to be sexually assaulted. Yet all I could think of was about how delicious her misery would taste. Part of me wanted to let it happen. Let it happen, because the misery would taste sweeter afterwards.

I contemplated my actions. I was under no obligation to help anyone. I saw no need to even attempt trying to do anything that was not in my benefit. Saving a slave girl – it was not in my benefit. I would enjoy the taste of her misery far more. That was in my benefit.

Strange. Despite this, I found my feet silently stalking the man and the girl. Why was I following them? For the girl's despair, or for something more? I was not sure. I made certain to avoid being seen and to avoid making noise. Eventually, they came to a stop at a door.

"Get in bitch!"

She was shoved in. The slaver went in afterwards.

I stood at the door. Indecision tore at me.

 _The taste… think of the taste…_

 _The girl – think of the girl –_

I scowled. Indecision was costing me time. I did not have much time to afford. I would make my decision upon finding the sight inside. I reached for the knob – but stopped. Charmed. I could smell it – dark magic, intent magic – like cookies and milk. Charmed to alert the man upon being touched. Charmed to be locked.

Fascinating. It was time to test out my theory. I opened my mouth, and I drew it in. I focused on the emotions behind the magic rather than the magic itself. The emotion and intent powered it. It was like attempting to swallow a raisin with a mouth full of water. It took me time, time to separate the water from the raisin, and to eventually find it and swallow. It was a suitable snack, delicious, but not entirely satisfying.

Once I was done, I stared back at the knob.

No smells. No traces of magic.

I would have been giddy, if I remembered how to express that emotion. Instead, I settled for a feeling of satisfaction. With it, I turned open the knob. The thick smell of bakeries blasted out from the room like the air from a blow-dryer. The man was standing over the girl. His naked body actually sent waves of disgust into me that I could detect. Clearly something was in front of him, judging by the way he was thrusting his hips.

Then I realized, I had been a fool.

I had been thinking of the girl's misery or her life, when there was easily a third option. Consuming the slaver's own emotions. He was filled with chaos, with satisfied sadistic glee – and I had never tasted it before. Sadistic glee – it smelt like venison.

I needed to be a certain range to consume people's emotions. So, I crept behind him, slowly, silently, and he did not seem to notice my presence. Then, I opened my mouth and took a huge, meaty bite.

All at once, I was standing over someone. There was something pleasurable going down below, and I realized that a small person was apparently sucking me off. What? I tried to make sense of it –

More and more images came flying in. I was using the minor Rune Script magic I had learned as a slaver to lock the door and set a warning when someone tried to enter. I was walking down the hallway, dragging a small girl across from me. I was thinking about how pleasurable she would be.

Then, I was ordering the slaves. I was giving them commands and instructions. Then, I was chatting with some of the slavers. I was in charge of the distribution of food and ensured that none of the ingredients shipped unto the island were stolen. I made sure all the bad looking ingredients went to the slaves, and the freshest went to the slavers –

Then, I was on my ship. A smaller, private vessel hidden on a secret spot on the island. I usually killed slaves there, once I was tired of them –

A startled scream banished the images, sending them all shattering like glass from my vision. I was back in the room. I was behind the stone slaver. The scream had come from the girl.

Wait – stone?

The slaver whose sadistic glee I had consumed, he stood now, immobilized completely. His entire naked body was stone, rock solid stone, from his feet to the last strand of his hair. Gently, I pushed him to the side.

He crashed to the floor and shattered like a porcelain vase.

Realization dawned on me as to what had happened. I was neither the cause nor origin of his sadistic glee, hence, when I had consumed his peaked emotion, I had gained no sensual pleasure from it. Despite this, it seemed that consuming extreme glee and happiness made people turn… to stone. Fragile, easily breakable stone.

Consuming peaked rage made people explode and consuming peaked pleasure turned them to stone.

What I did not understand, however, was why I had received portions of his memory?

"Y-y-you killed him."

It was the second time today someone called me a killer, and I was already fascinated by it.

"Yes. I did."

It was my first time taking the full view of the young girl in front of me. She was naked, and she was young, too young. I estimated she was two or three years younger than Erza. Of course, when you were a slave, such a thing as a concept did not exist. Her eyes seemed familiar, and immediately, I realized why she had seemed so familiar.

 _Angel._

Of the Oracion Seis.

Yes… the members of that Dark Guild had all originated from this slave tower, had they not? If this was the lifestyle she had endured beforehand, I could not fault them for choosing to join a dark guild. Still, I could not help but wonder if I'd interrupted something. Changed the timeline. Changed her destiny. Had she been destined to be assaulted by a fat slaver in the Tower of Heaven? Had this been a major moment in her life that would shape it for years to come? Was she supposed to have been 'rescued' by someone else?

I could not tell. Information on her was too scarce to know.

Still, this was wasting time. Far too much time.

"Y-you… saved me." She said, her eyes teary.

No. No I did not. I came here uncertain and with half the mind of letting her get assaulted so I could feed on her despair. I only decided at the last minute to devour the slaver instead. I was no savior.

"You need to leave this place immediately." I said briefly. "I am leaving, and it would be unwise for your health if you were caught here and people assumed you were responsible for this slaver's death."

I turned around, and made my way out. Still, something good had come from this encounter. I now had a guaranteed method of escape. A private boat which could be manned by a single person. Hidden from view and the public eye.

More than that however, I had attained something else.

" **Rune** … **Alarm**."

The rudimentary rune magic sprung into life, nonsensical dark purple letters floated above my fingertips and I could not stop the widening of my lips and the expression of my satisfaction as a grin.

 _I can do magic._

From consuming his emotions, to consuming the magic he had cast on the door knob, and eventually attaining the memory of how he had performed it. Those three factors, those three requirements combined, made me capable of learning the magic of someone else as though I had already mastered it. In addition, my own reserves of ethernano grew, and I gained a pleasant meal out of it all. A fairly decent deal.

However, I still did not know why or how I had consumed his memories. Until I figured out that particular trick, I was not going to be a very good Peter Petrelli or Sylar imitation. Regardless though –

 _I can do magic._

One spell in the runic school utilized by Freed. Just one spell – but it was a start. This was going to be the start of my entire collection of magic abilities.

"W-wait!" The sound of frantic footsteps reached my ears, but it was majorly the scent of ginger that drew my attention.

I turned around, finding the small girl, thankfully, she had grabbed a long bedcloth to cover herself.

"P-Please! Take me with you!"

"What?"

"Y-you're strong! You killed that slaver! You saved me! Y-you're planning on escaping aren't you?" she begged "Please – please – please – take me with you."

Was she not supposed to gain closer bonds with the future members of Oracion Seis? Was she not supposed to escape with them and join that Dark Guild? It was as I suspected – my interference had changed something.

"Why would I?"

She seemed to balk at the question. She struggled deeply, before she dropped into a deep bow.

"I –I'll do anything! Anything! Even – even what the slaver wanted!"

Too young. Way too young.

"I accept that offer."

Her head shot up. I could already smell cucumbers and onions, disgust and fear. Her face looked like I had killed her puppy.

"In approximately eight or nine years, when you're physically mature enough."

Shock, confusion, and then disbelief – before, overwhelming elation.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou –"

I felt that she was going to greatly come to regret her decision.

She would regret it deeply.


	4. Shifts in Perspective

**I may or may not have been drinking and not my normal self when I wrote this chapter. I can't remember. That could be reaally good, or reaaally bad. Meh. We'll see.**

* * *

 **Deicide**

* * *

Why would they take her eye?

The thought had occurred to me and given me severe pause after Angel had joined me. It made no sense. Logically, it was highly inconsistent and incredibly implausible.

 _Why would they take her eye?_

I was a slaver, intent on resurrecting an evil mage to destroy the world. A young female slave had come out as being the one responsible for a recent escape plan. I want to punish her. I want to break her spirit and ensure she never considers escape again. I want to inflict pain and misery upon her and her companions to show how evil and amoral I am. I torture her. And then I do the worst thing possible –

I take her eye.

No. No, that was both ridiculous and inconsistent. They were slavers who answered to no higher authority. Slavers who wanted to break the will of a _female_ slave. Why go through the process of removing her eye, when there was another process that would be pleasurable for you, and at the same time accomplish your goal?

Realistically, the loss of an eye was completely implausible. More realistically, the girl would have been gang-raped for several hours to the brink of death, and then tossed back into the cell without a care in the world assuming she did not die from the experience. It would break her spirit, her will, and that of her companions in one swoop.

I immediately realized the grim fate that awaited Erza should she be captured.

Of course, there was also the possibility, that her magic would be awakened during this process, and she would slaughter them all for their deeds. If the death of a grandfatherly figure was enough to necessitate the trauma to activate her magical prowess, there was little to no doubt in my mind that rape would not.

Was there any point in me saving her?

I contemplated it for several seconds. Then, I disregarded the notion. I stood nothing to gain and much to lose. Nothing to gain save for Erza Scarlet herself. Daughter of Irene Belserion. Titania. Eventual strongest female mage in the entirety of Earthland.

…

I did possess something to gain after all.

I shook my head. No. Regardless of any possible benefits such a relationship with Erza would provide, I could not risk my safety. I could not waste this ample opportunity to escape. The slavers quarters were empty. There was a path that led from these quarters to the outside. The path would be less guarded once the revolt began.

 _If the revolt begins_.

If. It was a tremendous _if_. Erza would certainly be in no situation to lead a revolt were her fate to be as I suspected. Rather, Jellal would be the one to do so. He would be consumed by enough rage to do so.

Still, all of this was speculation. Meagre speculation. I could be entirely wrong.

" _ATTENTION! ATTENTION! SLAVES ARE TRYING TO ESCAPE!_ "

The cry resonated throughout the tower. It was as I suspected. I felt a figure barrel into me, and clutch me tight. I rose an eyebrow, before I understood – the scent of onions lingering explained her fear.

"We are not the ones they are looking for."

This was the second iconic movie line I had uttered so far. I would need to make a habit of it. It was certainly amusing. She glanced her head up and stared at me, I could smell her surprise and uncertainty. I paid it no heed, and instead, I began walking at a brisk pace.

"We need to move fast. Our window of opportunity to escape is slim."

In the end, Erza's fate was no business of mine. Or perhaps, what occurred to her would make her far more fascinating. I cared little for either way it progressed. Instead, I dashed down the halls, making sure to keep my nose peeled for any smells that would indicate guards.

"W-W-wait – !"

I frowned. Angel was far behind, panting desperately. Being a malnourished slave girl did not give one much stamina. I, in contrast, was enhanced. My stamina was extraordinary, and almost ungodly. I could, theoretically, never get tired. As soon as I did, I ate the ambient miasma of chaos in the air, and I was refilled. However, I was certain that this would only work in places with dense concentrations of chaos and negative emotions. I would need to work on consuming pure ethernano once I could.

I lunged for the girl, sweeping her into my arms in one smooth movement.

"E-Eep!"

I paid no heed to where or what my hands held or touched. Instead, I began sprinting at full pace now. There was no way I would lose my major opportunity to escape because of her. Eventually, I came across a staircase. The staircase was long and spiraled, jagged, with no hand-railings. My goal was to head to the lower levels, but –

I shuddered. I could smell it. I could smell it above me.

It was Dark Magic. A thick, heavy amount of dark magic was above me, it scented to my nostrils like well-cooked and properly garnished lamb. It was the thickest, largest and juiciest lamb I had ever tasted.

"Ah – you're –"

I looked down. I had drooled all over her chest. My mouth was salivating uncontrollably. Angel scented heavily of gingers and onions. Fear and uncertainty. She did not know what I was going through. She thought I was contemplating doing something to her.

"I have no desire to eat you."

She seemed strangely unconvinced. I could not blame her. Nearly all my instincts screamed at me to run up, to find the source of that divine smell and consume it whole. My common sense, what little I possessed left, told me that doing so could cost me my opportunity to escape.

 _Do it – Do it – Do it –_

My desire for freedom overwhelmed my desire for the taste. I dashed downstairs, my feet rapidly making a silent beat as I moved, step after step, descending lower and lower in the Tower.

 _Peppers! Peppers!_

I cursed. I could smell it – anger. There were people coming – people climbing up the spiral stairs. And they were angry. I needed to think. I needed to think. I needed to find a way to stop them – I needed a plan. The two spells I knew were useless combat-wise. Alarm and Dark Lock. They could only be cast on objects, and not people.

 **Alarm –** Notified the caster when someone touched an item that was enchanted prior.

 **Dark Lock –** A spell that securely locked an object and prevented it from opening, sending nasty shocks to anyone who attempted to forcibly open it.

What could I do with these?

The smell grew stronger, and now, I could hear their footsteps. Angel stiffened in my arms. Running back up was not an option. That meant the only option was to fight and attack. I whipped my head down to Angel.

"I need you to do something."

She turned her gaze to me. "W-what?"

"There are two slavers coming." I said simply. "I cannot take both of them on at the same time. I need you to distract them."

"H-how?"

I dragged off her bedsheets, leaving her naked once more. She immediately tried to cover herself up, but I did not let her.

"Y-you –"

"Tempt them." I said bluntly. "If they possess the same tastes as the fat one, it will buy me enough time to deal with them."

I could already smell the emotions wafting from her. Disgust, fear, uncertainty, anger –

"I will not let anything happen to you." I said simply.

Surprise. "R-really?"

"Of course. You are mine, remember? No other person shall have you but me."

She shivered, and I could tell she was disturbed. Disturbed and… proud? Such a confusing girl. I let her stand in place, before ascending up the spiral stairway, making sure I stood at an angle that would be easy enough for me to do what I needed. Merely kicking them off the stairway wound not kill them – and it would possibly alert any slavers who were down below that there was someone approaching. No, I needed to take care of them here and now.

That was how I watched a young naked girl lie on a staircase and do her best to look pitifully sexy. Ah, what a tale my life has become.

"What the fuck?"

I was not sure if it was the sight of Angel lying spread eagle on the staircase that made the slavers stop and stare in shock and confusion, or it was just the general fact that a slave was here. Regardless, I did not care. I lunged, Angel's bedsheet flapped behind me like a parachute. The two men looked up, but it was too late. I landed in their midst, using the bedsheet to wrap around their faces and heads, rapidly tying it into a knot, obscuring their visions and slamming their heads together.

"Hey – I can't see – what the –"

" **Dark Lock.** "

The rune smacked unto the bedsheet, and it took effect almost immediately. It was 'locked' by me, with their heads tied inside, and any attempt to forcibly 'open' it would lead to –

" **Rune Magic: Electric Blanket**."

Thick, dark purple bolts of lightning emanated from the bedsheet along with two horrified screeches. The continued contact with the material made the shocks and lightning to continue, and the more they tried to struggle free from it, the more the shocks continued. Until, eventually, the smell of sizzling meat and burning flesh began to waft from beneath the bedsheet, and the material caught fire from the heat.

But it had served its purpose.

Their emotions were peaked – _fear_. Their peaked fear gave the aroma of sautéed onions on a rich potato dish – and I wasted no time in opening my mouth and taking a big, manic bite.

It was only as I did this, that I remembered I was the _cause_ of their fear – which meant –

 _Mind-Shattering Pleasure._

FOCUS! FOCUS!

There was no use. I was floating amongst the stars and constellations. Aphrodite herself came to greet me, she giggled, and her lovingly sensual lips, thick with red make up, roamed all over, licking underneath, above, around, and finally engulfing me –

She did not care how easily I released from the pleasure. She continued with her lips, unaware of my pleased anguish at how extra-sensitive I was, yet, she continued slowly, teasingly – agonizingly –

…

I gasped for breath and fresh air. For several seconds, I could see nothing but white spots in my vision. I could think of nothing but the bulge in my pants and another 'stain' that was added. I blinked. I blinked again to try and regain my thoughts, and then, the sight of a naked girl with white hair came to my vision.

It killed my post-euphoric bliss almost instantly. Undeveloped breasts, unfeminine figure, lacking curves –

I shook my head and clarity came back. I turned my attention to the two slavers. There was nothing left of them but dust. Dry, empty dust… grains of dust that were smoother and finer than powder and flour.

Consuming someone's peaked fear… turned them to dust. I noted down the results, silently, turning my gaze back to my companion.

"My apologies. You will have to walk around naked until we find another suitable replacement."

"…walk?"

I rose an eyebrow. Oh.

I sighed, moving forward and bending slightly. "On my back then."

I tried my best not to think of anything sexual when she gleefully, and gratefully did so. Part of me wondered if I was truly going to such extents just so I would have sex with her in the future, when she was more mature. Saving her life, and doing all this merely for sex was a bit extreme.

Of course, I did not have the best track record when it came to things like this, and thinking with my 'other' head. If I did, I would never have died in the first place. I continued our decent downwards, marching over the dusty remains of the slain slavers.

"Um…"

"What is it?"

"I… I-I don't know your name."

That – that was true. We had not even possessed a moment of reprieve since we met. I had not introduced myself.

"Jason." I said simply.

"I'm… Sorano."

"Huh."

"W-what?"

"I believed you would be named after your hair. Something like… Angel."

She did not say anything. Of course, I could smell her embarrassment easily enough. It smelt like _Tangerines._

"Do you mind if I call you that from time to time?"

She nodded into my neck softly. Her embarrassment increased twofold. I eventually reached the final floor of the Tower of Heaven. Then, I saw it, the large open arc of light, the path that led towards the outside. The path that had less and less of the dark scents of the Tower. Sorano saw it as well. I could not help the first burst of genuine emotion that had reached me since I entered this world. I dashed forward, pushing this body of mine to its maximum limits

"Alright, Angel." I said as the wind rushed past me "We are going to escape this place. We are going to live. And we… are going to be free. What do you say to that?"

Excitement. Excitement and... hope. Oranges and passion fruit.

"I'd like that…" she whispered. "I'd like that very much."

My feet burst out through the open door.

And for the first time in a long while –

I saw the sky.

* * *

 **XXXX**

* * *

Tiny events and small changes often rippled outward into disastrous consequences.

In another time, another world, Erza Scarlet and her group of friends would have never met a young boy with magic called Jason. They would have not been presented with an earlier opportunity at escape. It would have taken them at least three to four more months before they grasped at that chance of freedom.

In that world, the old man Rob would not have been with them. They would have been caught by a group of guards who were malicious, but lenient. A group of guards who wanted to punish them for their escape, and revel in their sorrows. A group that had the time to toy with them.

In that world, Erza Scarlet would have lost her eye after the guards refused to believe Jellal was the one responsible for the escape plan. In that world, Jellal Fernandez would have been tortured. A revolt would have broken out.

But… this was not that world.

Rather, they were caught by a different set of guards. A set of guards who were more apathetic than the ones they were destined to encounter. A set of guards who felt that it would be a waste of their time and effort to actually punish the slaves, when slaves where a dime a dozen. A set of guards that did not care in the slightest about who was the mastermind behind the escape attempt.

"If you want your freedom so much – you might as well just die and get it."

"Hey, Noran, hurry up and get rid of those slaves already, I'm getting hungry."

Rob was aware that this situation was bad. He knew it in his mind and in his heart. Still, he was the adult. He moved forward, doing his best to protect the children, raising his arms in a defensive position as he began to cast what little remnants of magic he could –

"Oh? So the old timer is a mage huh? Fire Magic? Let's see who's flames are hotter."

Rob swallowed at those words. He swallowed when he noticed one of the slavers begin to chant, thick dark yellow fire rushing forth from his hand –

Only for a spike of earth to lunge forward and imbed itself into his skull.

"Pft. Dumb old fucker. He actually thought I was going to use fire magic? Can you believe this guy?"

The children could do nothing but stare, shiver, and let out silent screams as their grandfatherly figure fell to the ground, a bloody spike splattered with gray-matter and brains being where his face was. No final words for him. No last thoughts. He was alive, and then he wasn't.

"Wait – p-please –" Cho had managed to let out just those two words before a fist made of solid earth slammed through his chest cavity, leaving a large gaping hole where his heart should have been.

Erza screamed.

Jellal roared.

"Will –" An earthen spear pierced through Jellal's chest, "You –" Another one ran through Simon's "Shut –" Through Millianna "Up!"

Erza knew nothing but pain, indescribable pain as she looked down and stared at the jagged earthen spear that had run itself through her stomach, occupying a massive amount of space where her stomach was supposed to be. She coughed up blood, and instantly, panic entered her heart as she realized she could not move or feel her legs or lower regions. The attack had damaged her spine –

Yet, she was the lucky one. The aim had been lower for her, than for everyone else.

She was the lucky one, because she was still alive. Or rather, she was the unlucky one.

Jellal lay on the ground, his eyes opened, his mouth wide, his final expression permanently etched into one of disbelief. Cho's final expression was confusion. Millianna was terror. Simon was sadness. All of them – all of her friends –

 _Dead_.

"Finally. Some peace and quiet. Now – let's go get some lunch. I'm fucking hungry."

And the people who were responsible –

"You're always fucking hungry."

"Yeah, yeah – it's not my fault I've got a large appetite."

"That's your excuse for being a glutton."

"Better a glutton than a kiddie lover. Geez – don't think I didn't see you eyeing the redhead."

They had not a care in the world.

 _They were chatting._

 _As if they had not just killed her friends._

 _Killed her loved ones._

 _KILLED HER FAMILY._

Rage. Rage. _RAGERAGERAGERAGERAGERAGERAGERAGE –_

She wanted them to suffer.

She wanted them to _burn_.

She wanted it _all_ to burn. EVERYTHING!

The entire Tower of Heaven.

 _SHE WANTED IT TO BURN!_

 _BURN!BURN!BURN!_

 _BURNBURNBURNBURNBURNBURNBURNBURN!_

" _RAAAAAAAAAAAARGGGGGGGGGGGH!"_

Erza Scarlet roared.

And the world exploded.

* * *

 **XXXX**

* * *

I smelled it before I saw it.

My neck whipped up to the tower as the overwhelming scent of chilly and meat assaulted my nostrils like two nuclear bombs over a deserted farmhouse. I lost control of my ability to not salivate and I almost jumped off the small vessel and into the sea, tempted to begin swimming back to the island just to have a taste of it.

Except, things happened in a manner that I could not have possibly predicted. From my position on the shipping vessel, I sensed the _gargantuan_ build-up of magical pressure and energy. Magic tinged with the overwhelming scent of rage. It gathered to such an extent that was disastrous, and spelt one possible outcome.

What I witnessed was equivalent to the launch of a rocket into outer space, overlapped with the video of a nuclear explosion. The outer-shockwave followed first, blasting massive winds at the sails of the slaver's vessel, sending it, and me, fleeing from the source of the explosion like devout man with demons at his heel. The actual flames followed, engulfing the entirety of the tower in a brilliant flash that appeared as though the sun had landed on the horizon. It came with a wave of heat that supercharged the water, creating steam, and further giving rise to massive waves in all directions, away from the epicenter of the blast.

My gaze was turned away from the explosion in lieu of Angel's frantic shout, and the sight of a massive wave threatening to easily to capsize the boat. There was nothing I could do to change that fact, except but to dive for Angel, hold her tight, and hope for the best.

The water crashed and we experienced Poseidon's bitch-slap. The force of the water sent both I and Sorano crashing into a mast. She let out a cry. I cursed, forcing myself to open my eyes in the salty seawater.

It stung. It stung immensely. But I had faced worse. Sorano was out-cold. We were still underwater. The boat was curving around us, capsizing. Soon, it would be upside down, and we would be underneath it. She would drown if I did not get her to the surface in time.

Why… why was I thinking of her life under such circumstances?

I was also in danger. In immediate threat of death. Yet, my concern was for Sorano's wellbeing before that of my own.

I did not waste time to ponder on it. I grabbed the girl the best I could, trying to navigate the turbulent waters.

It was impossible. I did not know how to swim with only one arm. I could not swim through such unsteady waters while holding someone else. I had to make a choice. Abandoning her and making my own escape, or dying together. Of course, I would come back as long as Eris had a vested interest in me. She had no such benefits.

The choice was taken for me in the form of a large piece of debris that slammed against the back of my head. The air was knocked out of me. My eyes widened, as I immediately realized that my lungs were rapidly filling with water. My strength was fading, as was my vision. I waddled in futility, trying my best to break the surface of water, to reach for air –

I failed.

 _No…_

She would die. Angel would die without a shadow of a doubt. If I failed, she would die.

What did it matter? I did not know her. We were but fleeting companions. It would be a shame, that she would not grow to her full beautiful potential, but such was life. Everything died.

Except…

I did not want her to die. Not yet. Not now.

I did not understand it. I could not place it. Logically, I should have no reason for doing so. No reason to place the life of a girl above my own. No reason to fight against her demise so vehemently. No reason to reject the inevitable. Why did I want her to survive so badly?

It was such a strange emotion, a strange, overwhelming desire.

 _I want to protect her._

I could not afford to fail.

I felt my magical power spike. I felt raw ethernano flood through my veins. I felt the power of all the chaos and fear I had consumed. Magic, overwhelming magic, a peak of emotions swirling in the form of a miniscule tornado. My body felt hot and cold. It felt warm and chilled. Familiar and foreign. Magic, raw, overwhelming magic, magic that possessed no classification, no element, magic that was in its purest state and its purest form, like the sap drawn directly from a tree –

It engulfed me.

And I released it.

* * *

 **XXXX**

* * *

I could not remember what happened.

One second, I was drowning, and gathering magical power, and the very next, I was lying on my back, the grainy texture of wet sand clinging to my skin and clothes. The sound of crashing waves echoed from my front, and the echo of seagulls accompanied it. My eyes turned to the sky, and I noticed that it was dark, filled to the brim with constellations. The moon hung peacefully along with it, serenely, and it made me realize just how long it had been since my gaze had been acquainted with it.

It also made me realize that several hours had passed.

I jerked up, sitting. My gaze immediately flickered around my immediate surroundings, and it made me pause when I realized that I was inside something deep. A crater. A very large, incredibly deep crater. I estimated it to be the size of a stadium.

How did I get here? What in the world could have created something like this?

I rose. All I knew, was that I did not wish to be around or nearby when it returned. It took me some effort to climb out of the crater, and back unto the beach. I set my gaze to the sea, and the Tower of Heaven was nowhere in sight. I set my gaze back to the land, attempting to find a familiar mop of white hair.

"Sorano!"

My voice called out, loudly, the resounding echo travelled farther and farther. No response.

"Sorano! Sorano are you here?"

I stood to my feet, and I stopped.

 _Why was I calling this girl?_

So far, my behavior was peculiar. Too peculiar. Originally, I could not have cared less about her life. Now, on the other hand, I was immediately rushing to find her, to take care of her, placing her safety above mine?

Something was wrong.

I sat down, closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

 _Chocolate._

The smell made my eyes snap open. I could smell the lingering aroma of chocolate around me. It wafted from me like an overwhelming cologne. It gave me pause, particularly as I identified the emotion with it.

 _Selflessness._

That was impossible. _Selfless?_ _Me?_ Incredibly impossible. I was the same person who demanded something in exchange for the freedom of slaves. Clearly, something was wrong here. There was something I was missing.

I needed my ability to smell to be sharper. Sharper than it was now. I was not sure how well it would work, but I channelled my magical power to my nose, rifling it with ethernano. Then, I took in a deeper breath.

 _Selflessness: – Self-sacrifice. Self-interest. Loneliness. Desperation._

The barrage of scents bombarded my nose as though I snorted cocaine while whiffing a cigarette, sending me into a coughing fit. I shut off the magical power to my nose, returning it to its default state. I grit my teeth as the barrage of different emotions wavered with different aromas in the air.

I cared so much about Sorano, because I was lonely and desperate for some form of companionship? I valued her life above mine because I could not truly die, and I feared I would be alone if she died?

Nonsense. Errant and absolute nonsense.

Or was it?

My brow furrowed as I did my best to remember how I had survived. That rush of magical power, that overwhelming feeling that had made me somehow leave the ocean –

 _The Desire to Protect._

Putting the life of someone else above your own. It had caused my magic to react. The emotion of self-sacrifice, or the _illusion_ of the emotion of self-sacrifice – to care about one's life more than your own, to want to do something, _anything_ to protect that which you felt was precious to you –

It supercharged my magic.

I blinked.

 _Could it be?_

The One Magic was love. Emotion was magic, and if Fairy Tail was to be believed, stronger emotions could generate greater magical prowess. What I had done, it was essentially the same as what those Fairy Tail mages did again and again, using their 'nakama power' as it were to deliver themselves out of a harsh spot.

 _What was 'nakama-power' exactly?_

Love. Romantic love, Platonic, familial – it mattered not. Love was what powered them.

 _What was love?_

The scientific aspect and definition aside, there was one thing was central in love. It wasn't trust, compassion or even desire, it was rather:

 _Self-sacrifice._

"For God so loved the world, he sent his only begotten son…" I recited with a dry chuckle.

Self-sacrifice. That was it. A mother, starving herself to ensure her children possessed food on their plates. A father, working tirelessly, enduring insults and hardships in order to come back home with money to witness the smiles on his family's face. A husband, turning down a large promotion in order to stay by the side of his sickly wife. A boy, devotedly in love with a young girl, but yet, choosing to help her achieve someone else, someone better than he could ever be. Self-sacrifice, or the _illusion_ of self-sacrifice.

It was the closest thing to pure 'love.'

"Fascinating."

If such were the case, it would explain why the villains of this world could and would never succeed. They could not love. They were too selfish to do so. Their magic was fueled by selfish desires – the very antithesis of self-sacrifice. Against the Fairy Tail mages and others, they stood no chance.

The question however remained –

"How do I use this to my advantage?"

The illusion of self-sacrifice seemed to work just as well, however, the problem was the fact that self-sacrifice was not a 'naturally occurring' emotion or sentiment. I could not just stand and declare that I was feeling self-sacrificial. It would not work. That untapped well of powerful magic could only be locked if there were actual stakes, and an actual sacrifice was made.

I would need to find a way…

"J-Jason!"

I snapped up to attention at the call, and I whipped my head to the side. There she was, running on the beach towards me, thankfully, she was clothed. Clothed in rags, but clothed.

I nodded. "Sorano, it seems that you are well –"

My words were cut violently short as she barreled into me. Rapid instincts almost had me interpreting the movement as an attack, but I curbed it.

"Y-you're alive! You're alive!"

"Yes – yes I am." I said.

"I thought you were going to die after you were all glowy and burning up and dragged me out of the water and split the sea and then –"

"Apologies, I did _what?_ "

She stared at me as though I had two heads.

"You don't remember?" she said, "You helped me out of the water. You split the sea in half and woke me up at the bottom by –" her cheeks went red "k-k-kissing me and… and then we got out of the water and you ran us back to shore. But then you got all really glowy and you said you thought you might explode, so you ran off so I wouldn't be caught in the blast."

"… _what?_ "

A dawning sensation engulfed me as I turned back to the gargantuan crater.

 _I… made that?_

 _How?_

"Sorano," I said, quickly turning back to the girl, "Can you remember, was there anything I said? The name of the magic I used, something, anything that sounded like a technique of sorts?"

"N-no? I can't really remember…"

I frowned. What she described… was it a Take-Over transformation? Had I unlocked some innate magic as a result of the overwhelming power of self-sacrifice? Take-Over Magic was the only thing that would have fit the bill, considering I had no memory of the transformation, and no memory of its effects afterwards.

This bore some investigation.

 _GRRRRRRRRRR!_

Angel blushed, turning her gaze away.

"I'm hungry."

"I can tell." I said dryly.

"We're… we're free right? Which means… we can eat… anything we want, anytime we want?"

It was odd how relatable that sentence was.

"Yes, Angel," I said, "You're free."

I was not. Not yet. Not truly. Not until a goddess lay at my feet, vanquished.

"Do – do you think… the people at the Tower… do you think any of them…"

The memory of the Tower of Heaven going up in a flaming explosion made me frown. It was unlikely that anyone had survived that. No – it was very much more likely that they were all dead.

"No." I said simply. "No one could have survived that."

"Oh."

Most of the future members of the Oracion Seis were dead. Jellal Fernandez was dead. Erza Scarlet was dead.

The world was already a changed place. It mattered not. I would be ready to face any challenge that came my way as a result of the changes, ready to face this world anew, ready to consume the fine tastes of chaos, ready to overcome any difficulty.

 _GRRRRRRRRR!_

Starting, apparently, with Sorano's growling stomach.

* * *

 **XXXX**

* * *

Things had not turned out the way he had expected. He had plans for the R-System to be completed. He let the slavers do as they wished as long as they worked the slaves towards its completion. One of the numerous ways to eventually awaken Zeref. Of course, the Tower also provided another opportunity – the opportunity for recruitment and to find new, fresh blood.

He had instructed Ultear to keep an eye out for said fresh blood, and she seemingly had plans in mind for one Jellal Fernandez.

Of course, those plans eventually ended up no longer being used, courtesy of the boy's death.

His fortress, high up and invisible, had witnessed the sheer force of the fiery explosion that consumed the entire tower. To think! To imagine! Such a splendid and overwhelming talent had been underneath his nose without even realizing it. That a small child possessed enough magic power to create such a devastating explosion –

And then there was the other one, the one who had somehow escaped before the blast, possessing enough magical power to momentarily divide the ocean in half all the way down to ocean floor. No spells, no lost magics –

Just _raw_ magical power.

Raw magical power, generating a wall of pure pressure and magic that commanded the ocean to split in half.

 _Absurd!_

Even _he_ could not perform such a feat. He could not even _dream_ of it.

He would find the boy – the mysterious boy with black hair and red eyes. He could not allow such a powerful young child to go unchecked or unmonitored, or worse, to allow that miraculous power to stagnate and fade away into obscurity.

Regardless, although the R-System plan had been a waste, he had ultimately gained far more from it than he intended.

Collecting the broken, battered, and clearly wounded body of the girl had been one difficulty. Utilizing his knowledge of obscure healing magic to heal most of the damage had been another significant one, but, it would be worth it. It would most definitely be worth it.

"W-where… am I? W-who… are you?"

He turned his sharp and calming gaze upon the red-headed girl.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, child. You are aboard my fortress and vessel, and I am the Guildmaster of Grimiore Heart. You may call me…"

He smiled.

"Hades."


	5. A Monster's Conviction

**Yooo! So it's been a fucking long time since I updated this. Finally got over my hate-boner for Fairy Tail's shitty ending, but I'm never reading or watching anything made by Mashima ever again. Fuck that guy and his new manga Eden Zero. Fuck him.**

 **This chapter is just to get me back into the groove of writing this story. The Plot Kicks up from the next chapter... which hopefully won't fucking take several months to get to.**

* * *

Living in the forest was a highly educative venture.

Taking baths from a nearby river source, relying on whatever wildlife you could find, skinning them and using whatever you could get to formulate clothes for yourself. Living off the land in every sense of the word – it was an _entertaining_ venture. I had never one day entertained the fact that I would take up a hermitic lifestyle, yet, here I found myself doing just that. It was partially out of necessity, and significantly out of my inability to find proper civilization.

I had always wondered, how had Erza Scarlet done it? Navigated her way from a deserted beach all the way to civilization, when she clearly had absolutely no clue as to where she was going? Had she encountered help on the way? Travelers? Did she possess an encyclopedic knowledge of the land? How did she not get lost?

Even I, with my enhanced sense of smell, had gotten lost a countless number of times. My sense of smell was fine-tuned to find emotions, but only in close proximity. At far distances, it was fine-tuned to perceive chaos… and therein lay the problem.

Fiore was a peaceful land.

Unlike the Tower of Heaven that was filled to the brim with chaos and suffering and anguish in the air – the rest of Fiore was generally peaceful. I could not perceive the slightest flicker of great tragedy or disaster – my nostrils were unable to find those aromatizing scents that had once been so common place. This, unfortunately also meant that I had not fed on any miasma or emotions for the complete two months that I had left the Tower.

It was starting to take its toll on me.

"Hmm…! It's delicious!"

I watched as Sorano tore into the lamb of rabbit I had killed and seasoned with the few herbs and fruits I could find. To her, anything I roughed up was delicious. To me, however –

I took a bite.

 _Bland._

It felt like I was chewing on paper. Gritty, hard paper. Its blandness was absolutely disgusting to my palates – my palates which had thrived and lived on ambrosial delicacies. The urge to vomit rapidly filled my throat, and I had no choice but to drop it to the side.

"Take mine."

She took it from my hand with satisfied glee, biting into the rabbit lap and sending the juices of the meat dribbling down her chin. I turned my gaze away from the display, and almost grunted at the harsh rumbling that was slowly echoing in my stomach.

I could not eat food anymore.

It mattered not what it was or who cooked it – all of it tasted disgusting to me. All of it would make me vomit. I could only feed on Chaos. Misery. Suffering. Anger. Sadistic glee. All of which were things that were severely lacking when one was in a forest, with a single other companion.

I stood up from our makeshift campsite. My gaze turned to the sky, taking in the sight of the moon and the illuminated night stars. I had tried using them as guides to find the nearest source of civilization – and I had failed. It was amusing, actually. Still, we had made some form of progress. I marked down the trees we passed by, so I would know if we somehow ended up backtracking by accident. For now, we had been travelling in a general direction of North. At the very least, I believed it was North – using the rising and setting of the sun as a basis, it could as well have been South we were travelling.

"Get some sleep when you're done eating. We leave at first light."

She gave several quick nods, and I shook my head at the oddity of the girl. The _child_. Originally, I wondered why she even bothered following me – she could have escaped or left anytime she wished. The problem was, she was equally as lost as I was, if not more so. She had no idea as to where she was, and she had not the slightest clue as to how she would begin to find her way back home. Or, at the very least, back to civilization. Without me, she would have died within the first week.

I left the camp, doing my best to channel Ethernano to my nose to pick up something, _anything_ which would serve as a guide for me to go in the right direction. Once more, my nose picked up absolutely nothing. My stomach growled in discontent.

I was beginning to doubt if I had arrived on the same beach that Erza was destined to have crashed on, when she had made her own escape. There was nothing but forests, forests, and more forests. No roads, not even the tiniest hints of civilization that would have given me an inkling of where I was.

Or perhaps, it was conversation of detail that was at work once more? For all I knew, perhaps there _was_ indeed civilization deeper in, however, the problem was that the proportions of land were vastly underestimated in canon material. Similar to how one would visit a tiny city in a videogame, such as Whiterun or Jubilife City, but if one were to visit such places in real life, they would find it to be sprawling metropolises.

During the Tower of Heaven arc – the group had gotten an invitation to a hotel and casino that was based at the beach. We are never told the distance from the hotel to Magnolia. For all I knew, it could be several weeks' worth of travel with a magical vehicle, or it could be several days. I supposed it also made sense that they would locate the R-System Tower in the middle of an ocean that had no nearby human settlements on its closest shores. All it would have taken would have been one over-eager fisherman to have sailed out, stumbled across the tower, and immediately reported it to the authorities.

I stood in the middle of a small forest clearing, ignoring my growling stomach once more. I never once envisioned that a challenge I would encounter in my quest to slay Eris would include getting lost. But then again, I underestimated how important something as simple as geography was. It was effectively the same thing as casting a man born in London into the jungles of South America and expecting him to find his way out with no map, no clues, no guide, no knowledge of flora or fauna, no compass, and no specific destination.

It was an exercise in futility.

The only option I possessed to find my way was Eris, and I had already swallowed my pride and anger at the goddess and asked for her help. I had received no response. So, I was truly on my own. The only real way I would be able to find my destination and make my way out of this forest, was if I had one of the most coveted of all abilities.

 _Flight._

If I learned how to fly, I would be capable of escaping my predicament, and getting from place to place significantly easier. There were numerous mages who had displayed the power of flight in this world, from Dragonslayers to Godslayers and more – the list was practically inexhaustible. Hence, I began my foray into the arts that would elevate me to a status above mere men.

It was not easy.

I sat down in the clearing, pushing aside figs and dead leaves as I focused once more on the well of magic that was deep within me. Flight required propulsion and stabilization. A force that would elevate my body weight off the ground, and a steadier force that would enable me to maneuver and stay elevated off the ground.

My first attempt had been to merely pump out ethernano from the bottom of my feet in a massive stream – but the sheer amount required would run me dry just to get me three feet off the ground. Fantastic for short bursts of speed and movement, but ineffective for continuous, over-time utilization.

The second attempt had involved using a form of elemental magic as a focus, such as fire or wind, but I did not know how to use fire or wind magic, and hence, that was another exercise in futility.

My third attempt had me attempting to conjure corporeal wings, or perhaps a corporeal beast that I would be capable of riding as a mount. This, too, ended up in failure, as the magical cost was far too tremendous to be feasible.

The fourth attempt involved morphing my arms into wings using Transformation magic, but again, I lacked sufficient knowledge of the magic to make this work. 'Intent' alone was not enough.

My stomach growled once more, and I could not help but wince at the biting sensations. Even now, I could hear whispers and voices attempting to convince me to feed on Sorano, to pin her down, scare her, or perhaps torture and rape her in order to get the best tastes of misery. Except, I knew that doing so would only feed me for a short while at best, and it would kill Sorano in turn. The brief satisfaction simply was not worth it.

Attempting to suck out the natural Ethernano from the air was as effective as attempting to drink the ocean with a perforated straw. It was far too much, and far too pure for me to merely drink in. Natural ethernano lacked emotion – and because it lacked emotion, I was unable to consume it.

"Magic…"

I lay down flat on my back, my gaze turning to the sky. So strange it was, to possess this power, the power to alter the world, yet, I knew not how to utilize it. I was prevented from using it due to lack of knowledge. The agony was comparable to watching a beautiful woman strip and dance around a pole, before sauntering over to you, grinding herself on you, yet, going no further, stopping just as your throbbing member demanded release.

Cockblocking. Ah, I remembered the word now. I was being _magically cockblocked_.

It was frustrating. Was I to believe that someone like Erza who had unlocked her Telekinesis from grief possessed a more instinctual knowledge of magic than I did? I, who could channel my ethernano to my eyes to give me sharper vision, to my ears to give me sharper hearing, to my nose to give me a sharper sense of smell? I, who could empower my physical attributes with magic to become faster and stronger – I did not have a good enough understanding of it to use it?

Or perhaps it was instinct… perhaps I was thinking too much about using it, that I _couldn't_ use it. Such as how if one were to become consciously aware of their breathing and their blinking, they would impede the activities.

Instinct…

"Jason!"

My vision flickered over to the small form that was standing over me. "I told you to sleep once you were done eating."

The girl's nose scrunched up. "I couldn't sleep."

"Try harder."

Sorano crossed her arms. "You haven't been eating."

I did not bother with a response.

"Don't think I don't notice – I'm not dumb! You haven't eaten anything since we left the Tower! You've been starving yourself! You've gotten skinnier and your skin keeps getting paler."

"Is there anything else you wish to add? A point you want to make?"

"Why aren't you eating?" she asked, frowning. "You don't eat, you barely sleep – and you go out and work non-stop – it's like you want to… die."

"None of your business."

"It is my business!" she argued, "I want to help!"

Something _irked_. The sensation was an unpleasant rash. One that occurred at a position both unreachable and ill-timed which only served to magnify the sense of unpleasantness.

I sat. To say my gaze locked upon her form was to say that a falcon casually glanced at its prey. My nose detected the change. _Uncertainty_. _Apprehension_. The smells wafted to me and unleashed a leviathan within my stomach. The unshackled beast _roared_. The transliteration echoed to the outside world as a hair-raising growl.

"All you have been so far is a _liability_."

She flinched. _Disbelief_. _Denial_. _Fear_. My throat itched uncomfortably as behemoth joined leviathan in the uprising within my stomach. My breathing slowed.

"I hunt your meals. I provide your clothes. I provide your shelter. I provide your clean water. What have you provided me in turn?"

"I – I –" she struggled in vain for an answer. Her struggles reeked of _fear_ and _uncertainty_. The itch in my throat began to grow as did the whispers in my ears.

"Your continued existence is detrimental to my own survival. Were it not for me, you would have starved to death, or been mauled to death." I said. "So should I instruct you to do something, you shall do it without question. Is that clear?"

"I-I don't understand! Why are you being so mean to me? You've been mean to me ever since we escaped from the tower!"

 _Frustration_. My tongue unconsciously ran along my lips. Saliva began to slowly bubble in my throat. "I am not a nice person."

"But – but you saved me from that slaver, and then you told me that we would be free –"

"I never intended to save you." The truth. "It was merely a by-product of my goal of killing the slaver." The truth. "I intended to watch you get assaulted and devour your misery." The _truth_.

The truth was an unpleasant thing for her. I could smell it. The turbulence. The friction. The disbelief. Like a child who had recently witnessed their sibling slit her wrists in the bathtub, or her father pound against their mother with a leather belt and broken beer bottle. The shattering of a sense of safety; the brutal execution of their innocence.

My breathing got harder. It was not the only thing.

"And we are not free." I said. "I am enslaved to a god. You are enslaved to me. Freedom is not a privilege we are entitled to."

The wafting aroma was getting strong, too strong, courtesy of Sorano's face which looked as though someone had kicked her in the stomach repeatedly. _Betrayal, fear, uncertainty_ – it was coalescing around her, and it was drawing me forward – I had to – I needed –

 _Consume…_

I rose, turning my gaze to the girl, swallowing the saliva that was overflowing in my mouth. I failed. The saliva overflowed like a condemned aqueduct, dripping out of my mouth, pouring down my chin and unto my chest.

"Do you want to know why I do not eat? It is because I _cannot_. The only thing I am capable of feeding on are emotions… strong, negative emotions."

I stalked forward. One foot dragging slowly in front of the other. "Sorrow, despair, betrayal, chaos, sadistic glee, anger, rage… emotions fuel me." I wiped the saliva dripping from my mouth, an effort that was as futile as attempting to drain the ocean with a rag.

"I am not a kind person." I repeated. "I am not."

 _Take her… take her… consume… devour…_

Sorano stumbled to the ground, scrambling backwards, and the powerful, delicious scent of _fear_ , of _terror_ hit my nostrils –

I lunged for her. Instincts and an overwhelming _urge_ compelled me – I pinned her to the ground with relative ease and locked my gaze with hers, drinking in her terror. I could taste it. I could feel it. The more she struggled, the more she despaired –

"I-I-If –"

A single word gave me pause. Gave me clarity. That single word made me pause.

"I-I-If it'll help you… t-then – t-then you can… you can…"

Despite her fear, I could smell new emotions bubbling to the top. I could detect it, paradoxically, _courage_ , _determination_ – _selflessness._ Her eyes were squeezed shut – tightened as she waited for me, waited for it.

 _She_ _waited for me to consume her_.

My hunger receded. Clarity grasped at my neck and choked away my frenzy like a desperate woman freeing herself from a drunken molester. The smell of her _courage_ , of her _selflessness_ – it _reeked._ It slapped me across the face as a corporeal force.

I collapsed to the ground, tempted by the urge to utter out a bitter laugh in lieu of my pitiable state. The action of laughing was something that still eluded me. My lips could barely curve themselves upwards, their weight on my face possessing the sensation of hardened bricks.

"J-Jason?"

 _Confusion_. _Uncertainty_. _Relief_. The scents wafted from her form and caused an uprising within my stomach. It was not the first time I had attained a state of utter starvation. Perhaps, if it were, I would possesses significantly less control over myself. I would consider bugs and beasts, barks and leaves as materials fit for consumption.

"Why?"

"W-what?"

"Why?" I repeated myself, the well of conflicted sentiments swirling within my stomach. "You realize what I intended to do to you. What I would have done to you."

"B-because… you… you needed help." She stammered uncertainly. "A-and if I could help you… if I could… take away your pain…"

 _Madness_. Such was the first sentiment that ripped through me at her declaration. _Idiotic_. I found, with a little bit of irritation, that the weight on my lips seemed lighter. Treacherously, the top and bottom part began to curve. It was not an unusual feeling for my body to betray me. It was, nevertheless, the first time they chose to betray me in this manner.

"Ha."

It was the closest I had come to laughter in a long, long time.

"J-Jason?"

My body could not move. My stomach gnawed madly within, every fiber and muscle of my being was weighed down. The moon in my vision seemed to swirl and turn, and I could not help but utter it out again.

"Ha."

"J-Jason? Jason – you – you're shriveling!"

Was I? I supposed it was an interesting venture to have survived this long. The average human could go months without food, but only a mere three or four days without water. I had gone upwards of two months with neither. I could not even _drink water_ , without forcibly throwing it up anymore. The most basic of human needs was torn from me by a malign goddess.

"JASON! JASON!"

Sorano's frantic face appeared hazy. My eyes could not focus on it. All the magic within my reserves keeping me alive were completely exhausted. Willpower was formidable, but willpower alone could not stave off the eventual death of my organs from starvation.

I expected to survive a bit longer.

But, it was not the first time I was betrayed by optimistic expectations.

* * *

~~~~~~~~~ Deicide ~~~~~

* * *

" _I'm heavily disappointed."_

I stood in a vast endless plain. Grass the color of blood littered the ground. Pitch black flowers bloomed from the earth and coiled into the air like hunting anacondas. The sky was pitch black and blood rained down upon the already red grass.

Ever the dramatic witch, Eris lay casually on the grass, her white robe now pitch black.

" _You would choose to die of starvation rather than merely feed yourself off an insignificant little girl."_ A butterfly with the color pattern of a skeleton landed calmly on her finger tips. " _And you were so close to giving in to your baser instincts."_

The urge to insult her rose up on my lips. The desire to cut her down verbally itched at my throat like an unsightly bacterial infection. I abated my anger as best I could.

" _You were right._ " She said.

"What?"

" _I gave you far too little to expect you to navigate your way through the world. Watching you stumble around blindly in a forest for two months made it clearer than ever. Your abysmal navigation skills and your general lack of knowledge of basic geography was simply painful to watch._ "

I was tempted to offer out a petty 'I told you so', but I wisely kept my tongue.

" _Fortunately… you've empowered me enough to be able to help you._ "

Those words struck something at me. "I… empowered you?"

The goddess rose from the bloody grass, her pristine white robe, I now realized, shone brighter than ever. Gone were the tears and tatters, the sorry-state, the blemishes that indicated her fall from grace. Her eyes sparkled with unspoken power. Shivers traversed throughout my soul at her gaze.

In a step, she was before me, her finger lightly brushing the underside of my chin. Her lips claimed mine before I could protest, her tongue forcing her way into my mouth and ensnaring mine. Her saliva, the literal spit of a god, baptized the insides of my mouth, before she detached herself, a connecting trail of glistering liquid connecting our lips together.

" _Not even the tiniest reaction to me. I feel insulted that a human does not turn to putty at my touch,"_ she said with a wistful sigh. " _But I suppose that defiance is what I love about you the most, my Champion._ "

"How did I empower you?"

Eris smiled. " _Already – you've thrown a wedge into fate and utterly destroyed destinies. You have sown the seeds of chaos and despair into the world and you did it without even realizing it. My powers are returning at an obscene rate… it is overflowing in a manner that is almost driving me mad with pleasure."_

The difference was clear. Eris seemed composed. Calmer. It did not grant me any satisfaction. No, it did not. The realization that Eris would continue to amass power for as long as I continued to act in Earthland was not comforting. How would I kill a being who gained strength from my every misdeed?

" _I've provided you with a new gift as a token of my appreciation._ "

I did _not_ appreciate that. "After your last 'gift' – I do not want _anything_ from you."

" _You do not have the right to refuse. That aside, I have already given it to you."_

My hand went up to my mouth, remembering the kiss.

" _When you consume a person's peaked emotions – you consume their soul as well – and you learn everything they knew as if you lived their lives with perfect recall."_ She smiled. " _A far better method of bringing you up to speed about the world without having to go into a long, boring history lesson."_

My mind went blank. I could not help the straight gaze I shot at the goddess. Did she not understand the sheer capacity this power possessed? Did she not realize just what one could do with the ability to gain the souls of others? Or perhaps, she failed to realize what one could do with souls.

"You are giving me the power to absorb souls."

" _Yes_ ," she said gleefully. " _You can also use them… but how you do that is entirely up to you."_

"I would wager that I take on the traits of the people whose souls I've absorbed"

" _Correct."_ she admitted. _"But only the fun traits._ "

"Fun?"

" _Their greed, anger, lust, sadistic pleasure, darkest desires, contempt… the fun traits. The boring ones like compassion and hope aren't necessary."_

"Of course." I said. "You will do everything in your power to ensure I become nothing more than a tool who gains delight in suffering and misery."

Eris paused, staring at me as though trying to figure something out. " _Why would you not? The manner in which you suffered at the hands of your tormentors was tragic. Do you not want to make others feel the suffering you endured? To abuse your power on the world and attain anything and everything you want?_ "

"Doing that would make me no better than they were." I snarled. _Snarled._ "I _will not_ become a monster like them."

Eris let out a soft laugh, her hand covering her lips. " _Oh, but my champion… you already are."_ She pointed her finger at my skull. " _You have consumed the peak emotions of several slavers. Their souls rest within you… now, what would happen if I were to unlock their memories as well?"_

The memories of the slavers? The memory of that obese monstrosity that forced Sorano to suck his –

"No – you –"

" _I wonder how long your conviction and principles will last, when you have the memories of being nothing but a monster._ " Eris let out a _squeal_ of glee. " _You've earned my admiration for the amount of willpower and defiance you've shown me. But not even you can win a battle against your own mind."_

No. _No._

" _Have fun… my Champion."_

"ERIS!"

* * *

~~~~~~~~ Deicide ~~~~~~~~~

* * *

Memories were the core of a human being. The self. One could argue that the formation of memories, the ability to recall past events and make conscious or unconscious decisions based on nature and nurture was the building block of the human psyche. Philosophers argued on it constantly. The Grandfather's Axe. The Ship of Theseus. Different postulations presented to argue that one's memory made one's self. Adding or subtracting from it would invariably, unchangeably, modify the self.

Eris failed to break my body by making it a biological requirement to consume chaos.

Now, she decided to break my mind, by fundamentally editing my memories to render me unable to continuously defy her.

There was no doubt that the malevolent goddess was wary of me. It was the only reason she would go to such extremes. She wished to quell the flames of my resistance before it could flare into a conflagration that would consume her.

It was working.

" _Fucking slave!"_

I stood in a familiar room. Something pleasing my cock, slowly, inexperienced, and weak. Tiny sobs echoed. I remembered this scene. It was my last moments.

 _The slaver's_ last moments. Sorano on my cock –

On _his cock!_

 _I AM NOT HIM!_

But I was. The memories of my life played in reverse. Of how I became a slaver on the tower of heaven. Of how I'd been in a Dark Guild called the Bloody Sow which specialized in terror, assassinations and kidnapping. Of how I tricked women and girls into slavery – cuckolded married men by raping their wives, and cared little about the consequences of my actions. The memories travelled far back, to my youth, to my first time in a small gang and the fact that I'd sold off my own older sister to be raped because I hated how bitchy she was.

 _I AM NOT HIM!_

But I was. The memories rushed through my mind and felt like _I_ lived it. _I_ did those things. _I_ killed those people.

And this was just one of the slavers.

Once his run ended, I found myself ascending a bunch of stairs, and came across the sight of a slave child spread eagle on them. A boy with dark hair and red eyes rushed me with a blanket –

And thus another set of memories rushed through my brain.

I knew that I would lose myself if this continued. There were still three full sets of memories, three full sets of lives of horribly people that I would come to believe were mine. If that happened, if I let them override who I was – then it was over.

 _Eris would win._

I did not want her to win.

There was only one way to stop that from happening. One thing to focus on. A guarantee that would assure that I, Jason, would not become but an afterthought in lieu of the memories of scum of the earth.

 _I needed to focus on my suffering._

The human mind was a marvel, as it remembered bad, hurtful and painful events more vividly and preciously than good ones. One could often remember and recall and embarrassing or heart-shattering moment in their lives easier than they could recall joyful ones. Biologically speaking, this was an advantage to ensure the survival of the species. If you were not highly attuned to remember negative occurrences, and thus, remember how to _avoid_ repeating those negative occurrences, the human race would have died out before man learned how to shape stone into tools.

My saving grace, was that none of the slavers had suffered or endured as much suffering as I had. None of the slavers possessed memories of being whipped, choked, beaten, starved, and forced into sexual activities against their will. None of them knew what despair tasted like, and none of them had savored the sweet satisfaction of choking to death their tormentors.

They had been the inflictors of suffering unto others, but they had not suffered themselves.

And because of that –

 _I will not lose who I am._

* * *

XXXXX

* * *

I awoke to the sound of chirping birds. My eyelids slowly rose, meeting the absence of darkness and the presence of what looked to be the early morning sun. My head felt hazy – far too hazy, and I forced myself to relax, and forced my mind to calm itself.

Now – I needed to think – to see if something had indeed changed in regards to my knowledge.

"Who am I? _"_

 _Jason of Earth. Brought into Earthland after dying by the Goddess Eris._

My lips, fortuitously curled. I rose from the ground, charging up as much conviction as I could in my voice, taking in a deep breath, and bellowing as loud as I could.

"I AM STILL HERE ERIS!" I roared. "I! AM! STILL! HERE!"

Birds departed from trees in lieu of my scream. My voice echoed throughout the forest, the reverberation cutting off the beginning, and only leaving the hollow echoes of:

 _Still! Here!_

 _Still! Here!_

 _Still! Here!_

The day I would kill the goddess came ever so closer. I decided there was no point in continuing to waste time in attaining strength. First, I needed to see what sort of useful information I had garnered from my memories of the slavers.

"What year is it?"

 _X776._

The answer popped up to my head immediately, and I knew, there should have been no way for me to know that information. However, all the slavers had known, and thus, I knew it as well.

"What month is it?"

 _It was May two months ago. So it is July._

It was strange, knowing something, yet, possessing the knowledge that you should not know it. I could not complain. The presence of new knowledge was empowering, uplifting even.

"Where am I?"

…

Unfortunately, it seemed not everything could appropriately be remembered.

"Where am I most _likely_ to be?"

 _An uninhabited island belonging to the Caelum Kingdom – South of Fiore._

…I was never in Fiore? I did not land in Fiore at all? I supposed it would make far more sense. Now the next thing I needed –

"How do I get to Fiore?"

 _Swim._

That was not helpful. Nevertheless, it was no longer an obstacle. I possessed knowledge now. Knowledge that I lacked beforehand. Important knowledge which allowed me to use it… _Magic_.

" **Phantom Coils.** "

The power of corrupted souls, combined with Lesser Telekinesis from Slaver No. 2 and pure magic power combined to make four, long, thick tendrils of magical power – tendrils of magical power that made me _shiver_ with the sheer feeling of maliciousness. Two tendrils extended from my left shoulder, and two more extended from my right, wavering, turning and circling around me. I could not help the excitement that overwhelmed me at seeing it – at being able to _control_ it –

They were thick like ropes, intertwining ropes often used for mountain climbing, yet at the same time, they were smooth, like ice. But they weren't cold… they were warm… warm… with a slight vibrating buzz to it.

Telekinesis, surprisingly, was not a high-tier magic in Earthland. Nearly any decent mage with enough magical power could utilize it and Erza used it instinctively to control her swords. However, it possessed limitations in range and power that varied from user to user. My own version apparently, had power in spades, but it was limited severely in range. I estimated that its maximum range was seven-feet in all directions. In exchange however, it had been given 'form' and 'essence' due to the nature of my magic… chaotic and malevolent – my Telekinetic tendrils gave off an ominous vibe despite being invisible.

It reminded me of a character from a show… I could not remember which one.

"Testing."

I placed two tendrils beneath my feet, and commanded two of them to stretch up and grab the nearest tree branch.

Only for the branch to snap in half.

"Lacking finesse."

I would need to work on that. If only the tendrils were curved at the end to give it more gripping power… Could I? I closed my eyes and focused. I poured magical energy and then focused on shape – _shape_ –

By the time I opened my eyes, the end of each tendrils were replaced with a vague human appendage.

" **Phantom Claws.** "

The path to god-slaying begins with a single swipe of invisible telekinetic claws.

"J-Jason?"

I heard the sound of desperate panting, and I saw her, emerging out of the forest, her scent filled with disbelief and just the tiniest, smallest, flicker of _hope_. Sorano's wide eyes locked unto my form, her body unable to move. In the end, I found myself repeating the words meant for a malevolent goddess to a young lost slaver girl.

"I'm still here."


End file.
